The Doctor Within
by Saline Dreamer
Summary: Sequel to "So Much Dust." Lilith has retired as Field Agent for the Time Lord Office and has sent her son in her place. It seemed like the perfect choice at first, but anyone who has dealt with the Doctor knows that nothing is as simple as you'd think.
1. Similar But Not the Same

**To everyone that's just wandered in and didn't read the summary that well, this is a sequel. If you haven't read "So Much Dust," none of this will really make sense to you. To the rest of my faithful few, welcome back! Hope you'll like what I've come up with. Credit for the title goes to my Evil Twin who suggested the following quote as food for thought...  
**

_"Everyone has a doctor in him or her; we just have to help it in its work. The natural healing force within each one of us is the greatest force in getting well. Our food should be our medicine. Our medicine should be our food. But to eat when you are sick, is to feed your sickness."_ - Hippocrates

* * *

**1 – Similar But Not the Same**

"What the hell is _he_ doing here?"

"Someone's seriously lost it if they've given him credentials... Wait a minute, is that even a real badge?"

Without looking up from his magazine, Junior cleared his throat and replied, "Yes, it is. According to the revised Operations Manual, anyway. It was released yesterday, you should have access to it..." He turned a page, resumed his reading. When the pair of interlopers showed no signs of moving on, he closed the magazine with a sigh and looked up, removing his glasses and putting them into a pocket for safekeeping. A squint up at the identification tag worn by one of the duo identified them as a lesser file clerk from the Earth-Human office, his companion an assistant to the Archivist from the same office. "I'm sorry, can I help you?"

"We were just wondering how desperate your Caseworker is to keep you out of trouble," said the file clerk, smirking in a way that started a faint irritated itch somewhere in the back of Junior's brain. "Slap a badge on you, chain you to a desk, what did it take?"

"Especially since marrying you didn't work," the assistant muttered. "Now there was a match made in heaven – Crazy and Crazier. Not sure why it didn't last."

This last jab finally elicited a reaction, Junior looking up to fix the two in a withering blue-eyed glare that made them realize their error. "You've got the wrong person. You also happen to be insulting my parents, who have put up with far more than either of you ever have or likely ever will and have done so far more gracefully and creatively than most of the people in this room." He paused to drink the last of the water from his glass and contemplated the ice at the bottom for a moment.

The clerk and the archivist traded nervous glances, and when they looked back at the table they saw that its sole occupant had vanished completely. Then the assistant became aware of a cold, slick sensation trickling down his spine; he spotted the empty water glass on the table and let out an aggravated roar, rounding on the file clerk who did his level best not to laugh. "Damnit! Why do _I _have to be the one getting the ice down the shirt? This is all your fault!"

* * *

"So let me get this straight. In your first day at work you have managed to provoke not one but fifteen complaints, all on the basis of mistaken identity, mind you, and four calls to Security wondering what in the cosmos a Time Lord is doing working as a contractor!" Cameron dabbed at his brow with a handkerchief to erase the fine sheen of sweat beading there before continuing. "It's gotten to the point where I've had to issue a press release saying that no, things aren't going quite to hell just yet, and any further issues should be routed to Lilith – wherever she is! And Blessed Elder, would you at least _look_ at me when I'm talking to you?"

"Oh. Right. Sorry, Granddad. It's not that I wasn't listening or anything like that, just doing some research - "

Cameron scowled at this lack of professional courtesy and leaned across the desk to snatch the glossy pamphlet out of Junior's hands. He skimmed over the contents and tossed it back at the younger man with a disgusted noise. "Weight loss? You're already skinny as a toothpick. One of the more pleasant things you scooped from the gene pool, I might add. Also, what did I say about using personal names on duty?"

"When _aren't_ you on duty?" Junior retorted, collecting his coat from the back of his chair as he rose and then headed for the door. "Well, _sir_, I'm out for the day. Call me if you need me."

* * *

"Mum, I'm home!"

Silence.

"Mum...?"

When this second summons met with the same lack of response, Junior began a worried search through the house. A peek into the living room revealed a large pile of used tissues next to his mother's recliner, and further exploration showed that a closet in the master bedroom had been left open, jumbled contents spilled over the normally tidy carpet. The room serving as a home office for his stepfather now stood gapingly empty, stripped of the filing cabinets and inventories of rare artifacts, and it was this last inconsistency that sent Junior racing for the basement door. He ignored the pulsing red light posted next to the reinforced metal hatch – long ago placed as a courtesy to warn others that something time-consuming, delicate or extremely hazardous was taking place – and threw the override switch.

A primal survival instinct told him to step back and he did, barely in time to dodge the metal hatch as it burped open with a percussive clang. Waving aside the acrid smoke wafting up through the opening, Junior hopped through and clattered down the stairs into the cavernous workshop space where his mother spent most of her spare time. "Mum, are you okay?"

The response was almost too quiet to hear, an angry choked sob followed by "Go back upstairs, honey. Mama's working!"

It was the same phrase that he'd heard countless times growing up, but something seemed different this time and it was this that made Junior decide to do exactly the opposite. He stopped long enough to flick a series of switches controlling the auxiliary ventilation system, cycling fresh air into the confined space so that its inhabitants could breathe safely. "Where did he go, Mum?"

"Who, that glue-sniffing dusty whitewashed Post-it of a man named Evren that I was dumb enough to shack up with? He works in the Artifacts Department, Junior – I thought he was stable, nice enough to keep around and too boring for anyone else to try and steal!" A soot-caked figure emerged from the epicenter of the smoke cloud, wiping the film away from her safety goggles with a rag. "And, Elder take him, I was finally starting to _like_ him. How dare he have an affair?" Junior stood speechless as his mother lowered her goggles back into place and picked up the business end of a welding torch from its bracket on the side of her workbench. "And especially with one of those airbags from Personnel!" Her son scrambled to put on a spare set of goggles retrieved from the bench as she ignited the torch and began the final touches on one of her many projects. "What's she got on me, honestly?"

Junior waited until the last of the sparks had died down before addressing his mother. "Did he say why?"

"You bet he did! In his usual calm, articulate way." She peeled the goggles off one last time and tossed them in the general direction of the bench, then sagged into the high-legged stool usually reserved for detail-intensive work. "He said 'Lilith, you know I love you and the kids to pieces, but I just can't do this. I need someone _normal_, not someone whose brain is halfway out to Mars or wherever _he_ happens to be. You might be divorced on paper but heaven knows your heart – er, hearts, aren't.' And that is completely untrue, so I told him to get the hell out." She shook her head, grinning ruefully. "Look at me! I'm just setting all kinds of records – first Sidra to be divorced, first Sidra to re-marry, and first Sidra to get _re_-divorced!" An exaggerated sniff and a forced smile. "So, how was your first day at work?"

"Um. Just fine, really," mumbled Junior, scuffing a foot on the floor. "Why don't you get cleaned up while I step out and grab us something nice for dinner?"

"Fine, whatever. Just stay out of trouble and don't take too long, okay?"

* * *

The arrival of the spaceships was heralded by a rhythmic pulse more felt than heard, and Junior felt a light click on inside his brain as elements of five hundred years of voracious learning and rigorous schooling fell into place. "Adipose! Oh, now that's just clever – illegal seeding aside, mind you, but it's not like humans have got much use for the fat anyway other than sitting on it." Even as the rest of the bystanders were transfixed in awe by the sight of luminous sentient blubber-cubes rising into the air – _you people are quick to forget that at least three of those cute little creatures came from your aunt Enid's arse-fat, _Junior mused – he found himself scanning the rest of the scene for any familiar faces, craning his neck so that he could see and perhaps guess the identities of three barely visible figures on the roof.

So intent was he in his search that he did not notice the hood of his hastily donned sweatshirt falling back and revealing his profile to the young woman standing next to him. The blonde let out a startled exclamation, just loud enough to get Junior's attention, and threw her arms around him in an overjoyed hug. "I knew I'd find you!"

Junior thanked heavens for the easily-distracted capacity of the general human populace as he tried to extricate himself from this awkward scenario with little to no avail. "I'm sorry, miss – not that you aren't attractive – but... I don't think we've met."

"Don't be silly! After all we've been through - "

"You've got the wrong man. Again, I'm really, really sorry." Breathing a quick prayer for forgiveness to the Elder and anyone else that might be watching, Junior willed himself away to home and safety.

_Hell, I forgot all about dinner..._


	2. Flammable

**2 – Flammable**

"What is this?" Cameron took the form from Junior and squinted down at it through his bifocals. "A requisition for flame-retardant clothing? You know I'm going to say no to this, so why did you even bother asking?"

"Because Mum said no first," Junior replied with a rueful grin. "I figured I'd apply through official channels after the under-the-table aspect didn't work."

"I certainly won't deny the hazardous nature of our job." The Caseworker sighed as he rummaged through his desk for the appropriate stamp. "Where do you intend to go that you might catch on fire?"

"Why does it matter to you? I'm working." Junior shot a surreptitious glance over his grandfather's shoulder to the wall display that had first inspired him. It had been there since his mother had taken office as a way of keeping track of her sole client. Cameron had not seen fit to remove it, although Junior could not tell whether it was from a grudging respect for its usefulness or the forgetfulness of age. "Like you just said, it is a hazardous line of work. And since my time-sense isn't as accurate as yours or Mum's is, it never hurts to err on the side of caution."

Cameron followed Junior's gaze to the wall display and made a disgusted sound. "Pompeii? Your father is dangerous enough without being near an active volcano, and now you want to throw the extreme emotional stimulus of familial revelation in on top of a Time Lord _and _a natural disaster?" Cameron shook his head. "You are the child of your parents, that is for sure."

"Don't forget, I am descended from you as well." Junior smirked at his grandfather and rose from his chair, smoothing the wrinkles in his suit as he did so. "And who says I'm going to interact with him? All I want to do is watch."

"Fathers aren't always the heroic figures you make them out to be." Finding the stamp he was looking for, Cameron centered it neatly on the requisition and pressed the rubber to paper with a firm hand. "I say this both as a son and a father. Please be careful."

* * *

"The things I do for my work," Junior muttered as a cool breeze teased the bottom of his tunic and tickled the bare skin of his legs. "I feel like a showgirl, but when in Rome..."

"Rome's a ways away, sweetheart! Not quite sure what you're worried about." A young woman lounging in a nearby doorway laughed after saying this. "What's a fine young thing like you doing out and about by his lonesome? Looking for a bit of trouble, are we?"

"You might say that," Junior replied warily, blushing under the woman's steady assessing gaze. "Why, are you offering it?"

A second voice interjected from an older woman leaning out a window to observe. "If he's going to hang around much longer, Laelia, he's going to have to pay. And might I say, _boy_ - " she gave Junior a disgusted look " - most _men_ don't come here to chat."

Junior was about ready to fire off an acid remark when Laelia silenced him with another laugh and a dismissive hand gesture. "Pay no mind to Prisca there. She's just bitter because she wanted to be a vestal virgin and, shall we say, missed the mark." Prisca made an affronted sound and withdrew from the window, snapping the drapery closed behind her. "Nosy old shrew. Not my fault she's past her prime and I make more than she does. What say you, were you still looking for a little diversion?"

Finally realizing what Laelia was hinting at, Junior flushed bright pink and swallowed hard. "Erm, no, sorry. By trouble, I meant my father - he's a bit of a task, you see, and I was supposed to find him..."

"Ah." Laelia raised an eyebrow at her visitor's discomfiture and allowed herself a small smirk. "Well, good luck in finding your troublesome senior. My door's always open if you want to come by again."

"I'll definitely keep that in mind." Painfully aware of Laelia's sweetly mocking smile, Junior scurried away to spare himself further embarrassment. His steps took him down the street and away towards what he guessed to be the market portion of town. As he trotted, his preoccupation ran him straight into the path of a crimson-robed female who stumbled and would have fallen had Junior not reached a hand out to catch her. "I'm so sorry, madam, my thoughts were elsewhere."

The woman frowned, causing furrows in the intricate pattern of pigment on her face. "So they are," she murmured, giving him a strange look before hurrying off. Junior watched her go with a puzzled head-shake before moving onward. _A member of some strange cult, perhaps? And why did she look at me like that? It's not like I've sprouted an extra ear or something like that..._

_

* * *

  
_

Savoring the midday sunshine on his back, Junior slowed his stride to take in the atmosphere of the ancient marketplace, taking time to casually examine some of the goods being offered while at the same time keeping an ear out for anything unusual. He had stopped to haggle over the price of a piece of pottery when a commotion arose nearby, and he took the pretext of thinking over the potential sale to step aside where he could observe unnoticed. At the sight of the brown-suited man and redheaded woman hurtling through the plaza, he grinned and stepped into a nearby alley to avoid being spotted. "Trouble! Love it, oh yes we do..."

"Excuse me! Excuse me! There was a box - big blue box - a big blue wooden box just over there. Where's it gone?" Junior craned his head to listen to the hasty inquiry between a pottery merchant and the Doctor and groaned when he realized that he'd only just spoken with the vendor a moment earlier. _Please, Elder, don't let the man make the connection or ask the obvious..._

"Sold it, didn't I?" The vendor grinned in satisfaction with his fortune, oblivious to the fact that he may have done something catastrophically wrong. He brushed off the Doctor's protests, saying, "It was on my patch. Got fifteen sisterti for it! Lovely-jubbly."

It was hard for Junior to suppress a squeak of shocked laughter at the awkward scenario unfolding not far from him, but upon hearing the name of the unsuspecting purchaser, he decided to assist in rectifying the mistake. "Matriarch forbid an unattended human of this era get a look inside that ship," he muttered by way of justification. "I mean, I've never even seen what the TARDIS looks like inside, but I've got more right than they do! I'm only his bloody _son_ - "

"I thought so." His blood ran cold at the sting of metal slicing into his back, and even colder when he recognized the voice of the mysterious crimson-robed woman with whom he had recently collided. "The High Priestess demands your blood and your life, and it is only my pleasure to fulfill her demands."

The wound now stung as the knife was withdrawn and Junior sank to the ground with a hiss of pain. "What the... hell... is up with you? You've... got the... wrong man."

"Incorrect. You just said yourself that you are the son of the prophet of the blue box, and as such we cannot allow you to live. Make your peace with your gods – if you have any - for you shall soon meet them."

"Like hell he will!" There was a roaring yell and a meaty thud as something heavy connected with the would-be assassin's skull and sent her unconscious to the ground next to her target. "Why didn't you see that one coming, Sibylline bitch?"

"Be careful, Prisca! The gods do not like such words spoken of their seers, no matter what their affiliation." A rustle of fabric as someone knelt next to the woozy young man, and a muttered oath when they saw what the Sibylline oracle had done. "Help me carry him to Fidelis, he's close and he has more knowledge of wounds than either of us."

"But he's just a boy, Laelia, and an ignorant one at that. Why not let him go and do the world a favor?"

Laelia glared up at her colleague. "We must not let any harm come to this one!" She looked back down in worry as the youth's eyes drifted closed. "Trust me on this, Prisca, even if you have never believed me before."

* * *

"_Good god, Junior, what have you gotten yourself into this time?"_ It was a question that he had heard many times before, asked with an accompanying exasperated sigh as his mother dusted him off or reached for a fire extinguisher and/or first aid kit, depending on the situation. He was not surprised to hear it again now as he saw her in his mind's eye sitting by his bedside with her arms folded in disappointment.

"_Got stabbed in the back by a Sibylline oracle in Pompeii, then got dragged to safety by two ladies of the night." _Junior tried to lift his mother's foul mood with a grin, but even this failed. _"Come on, Mum, you've got to admit that's pretty absurd."_

Lilith rolled her eyes. _"You're right about that. Sounds like something that would happen to your father – or me. Whatever are we going to do about this sort of rotten luck?"_

"_You can start by patching me up, please. I'd rather not die from something so stupid..."_

An astonished laugh. _"I'm your mother, not your nursemaid. And for pete's sake, Junior, haven't you forgotten about what's in that blood of yours? Save yourself, it's not that hard."_

_

* * *

  
_

Fidelis shook his head in disbelief when he saw the two women and their burden arrive at his door. "What have we here, Prisca, Laelia? Another lovesick swain who can't take no for an answer?"

Prisca opened her mouth to reply but was shushed by her younger cohort. "On the contrary, Fidelis, this lad was attacked on the street. The attacker has since met justice" a rueful sideglance at Prisca "but he's hurt. Can you take a look at him?"

"Of course. Alcimus, Varius, stir your lazy bones! We've got a patient to move!" Two teenage boys appeared and carefully removed Junior from the custody of the women, Laelia breathing a sigh of relief as she shook out her weary arms. "If you'll wait in the atrium, ladies, I'll get to work."

Prisca took a seat near Laelia and waited until they were alone before speaking. "All right, Laelia, what's so special about that one? I'd never risk my neck for a stranger."

Laelia sighed, then scowled when she noticed a spot of blood on her otherwise immaculate clothing. "It doesn't take an oracle to see that he has a greater destiny than to die on the street in Pompeii. He's not from here, Prisca, not even close. And if he's that stranger's son like he said he was..." She reached into a fold in her garments and withdrew a medallion on a string that glittered dully in the dim light of the atrium. One side bore an emblem of a sword piercing two crossed rings, the other side stamped with words printed in a language that Laelia didn't understand. _Vann'e Sidra,_ she thought, scanning the words and remembering the day that the medallion had been given to her._ They told me to keep watch..._ "He is a treasure that cannot be allowed to pass away in some freak accident."

* * *

"Whoever sliced him knew what they were doing," Fidelis murmured as he peeled away the cloth from his patient's back. "He's lost so much blood. Alcimus, bring my instruments. Varius, fetch some bandages and clean, hot water – and be quick about it!"

The requested items were brought to the physician with admirable haste, but he and his assistants had to step back and stare in puzzlement after Varius had sponged the blood away. "Fidelis, sir, look at that! The injury is healing itself!"

"Nonsense, Varius. That would be a miracle - " Fidelis squinted down at the ravaged tissue on the unconscious young man's back. Where a deep knife wound had oozed dangerously only moments before, a pale pink scar now snaked its way up the flesh and then disappeared altogether. "I don't want to believe it, but it can't be denied. Get this lad a fresh change of clothing."

* * *

Junior next awoke to a soft hummed song and equally soft touch of cool fingers on his brow, smoothing away errant locks of his hair as he lay on a comfortable pallet. "Good, you're awake. You've been out for most of the day after that witch stabbed you." Realizing where he must be, the youth flushed deep red and did his best to sit up so that he could effect a swift exit. Laelia gently but firmly pushed him back town to a resting position, giving him the sweetly mocking smile that he remembered from first meeting her. "No, we aren't at my workplace. I rented a nicer room for you to rest in – although I'm not sure that you need it after that strange recovery."

A light tremor shook the room and Junior tried to rise again with much the same effect. "Laelia – thank you for being so kind, but I have to leave. It's not safe."

"Oh, the gods must be miffed over our mistreatment of their oracles. Let them be, I have more important things to worry about." She dangled a golden medallion just within eyesight and long enough for Junior to identify it before quickly stashing it away. "Yes, you're safe with me. I know the area better than you do; it's just a quick shake-up that will pass before you know it." Laelia paused, thought for a moment, then continued. "You were having the strangest of dreams, though. Some words that I've never heard of before – 'Pyrovile,' 'volcano' – and then you were pleading with someone to stop and think about what they were doing before they made a terrible mistake. Is something going to happen?"

"I - " Another tremor, more forceful, caused a vase to fall from a shelf and shatter. "You've been so kind, more than you needed to be with a careless stranger." _You can't violate the order of things by telling her! Even though she works for the Commission, she's still a resident of this city and is supposed to die._ Junior swallowed hard, squeezed his eyes shut and breathed a quick prayer for guidance. _If something goes wrong, it will be on my head..._ "If I told you to leave right now, Laelia, leave and head for the hills, would you trust me and do as I say?"

Laelia laughed as if he had said something terribly funny. "I guess so. But why? These quakes are nothing new. Calm down, they will pass!"

"No, Laelia, they won't." Something in his eyes made Laelia catch her breath in startlement, a blue ice that froze the heart and brooked no argument. "Life for life – you saved me and now I'm saving you. Don't argue!"

Laelia nodded assent, then on an impulse leaned down and brushed his cheek with a light kiss. "Very well." She then rose and walked out of the room amidst the strengthening tremors, leaving Junior alone with his thoughts.

"It's what you would have done, right?" he murmured to no one in particular and then vanished from sight. A large chunk of stone dropped from the roof onto the mattress where he'd lain, followed in short order by the rest of the building around it. The sky above choked with ash and beneath that veil the city of Pompeii fell.


	3. Genius for Hire

_Author's note, 15 March 2009: After numerous distractions, namely February birthdays (mine and others') and Gallifrey 2009 in Los Angeles and sexy jackets and Time Agents and... er, school - yes, that was it, school... the muse has oh-so-courteously decided to pay me a visit again and get this story back up and running. For now. I am laying in a generous stock of sugary treats and stout to see if that will get her to stay. We now return to your not-so-regularly-scheduled programming...

* * *

  
_

**3 - Genius for Hire  
**

"It seems you didn't need the flame retardant clothes after all." Avery adjusted a setting on her scanner and pressed a second switch to send the machine roaring to life once more. "My advice would be to invest in some kind of body armor... until you can figure out some way to keep the local ladies off of you." The scan rays filtered across Junior's skin like warm sunlight and he couldn't help a small contented stretch and smile at the sensation. "You wouldn't be grinning like that if you knew the levels of radiation I'm using to get any kind of imagery on you. Nothing truly hazardous, if my guess is correct, but you might come off as a humanoid glow stick for the next three hours."

"Thanks for the warning, Auntie." Junior sighed and shot a surreptitious look down at his bare torso. "So, find anything?"

"If there _is_ anything wrong with you, I'm not seeing it. There is some evidence of recent physical trauma, but it's healed quite nicely as if you'd had months to recover instead of hours like you've said." Avery frowned over the top of her glasses at the young man reclining in the exam room. "Sweet Matriarch, Junior, at least convince me that you've been near-fatally wounded. You act like you're in a bloody tanning booth."

Readouts stuttered briefly as Junior propped himself up on his elbows to glare back at his aunt. "What do you want me to do, go back and ask that woman for a redo? No thanks! I got stabbed, I was quite improbably saved from death by two women of ill repute, and then I passed out. I think I had a dream about my mother somewhere in there too now that I think about it, but when I woke up I was fine. Oh yes, and this mountain was about ready to blow up, so I got out of dodge. Excuse me if I can't give you any more in the details department."

Avery shook her head in vague disgust at her nephew's off-handedness as she made a note on one of the charts for later analysis. "Has it ever occurred to you not to follow him? If this is a sign of things to come, I wouldn't want to be around for the hole that would rip in the cosmos if you two ever got into a mess together."

"It has, but it's my job to keep tabs on him since Mum stepped down. Lyla and Lena are still going through school, so it's not like there's anyone else up for it."

Her readings completed, Avery switched her scanners off and returned to the exam room to disconnect the electrodes and various wires that she'd attached to her subject. "You're not officially certified to be a Field Agent, you know that. Lilith never put you through the training." She sighed. "I don't know why she didn't. It probably would have given you some semblance of guidance growing up. Still, you're not your father, which is a mixed blessing."

"I'll tell him you said that, Auntie," Junior muttered as he buttoned up his shirt and cuffed the sleeves. "Have fun with your readouts, I'm going to get some lunch."

* * *

"Lena ab'Vensha, please see the Instructor-Prefect after study hour today."

The announcement was not the first of its kind to be given to the young Sidra, but it nonetheless provoked giggles from the rest of the students in the study hall. One of the few students not laughing, though, was a dark-haired girl with tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses who instead eyed Lena with strained patience. **What did you do this time, Lena?**

**No clue, sister of mine,** Lena replied and added another row of figures to the already complex list of computations in her notebook. She hit a rough spot in her contemplations and dropped her pencil, scowling. When nothing came to her after a few moments of intense concentration, she reached into her vest and withdrew an intricately graven pocket watch. Lena ran her fingers softly over the patterns, tracing the lines and pondering the words whispered from within in response to her touch. Her thumb lingered briefly over the catch; then, thinking better, she re-pocketed the watch and looked up to find her sister now openly frowning at her. **What, Lyla? It's just a watch. If you don't believe me, you can have a look for yourself...**

Lyla shook her head and returned to her own studies, leaving Lena to her scribbled rows of numbers and theories. _Thank god for perception filters,_ she thought as the answer came to her. Immersion in complicated streams of thought made the rest of the study hour pass by at an almost unrealistic speed, and the chime signaling the end of the hour barely penetrated the thick veil of her musings. _The secret lies in the huon particle balance. Now if I could just figure out how to adjust that..._ Ignoring the steady scolding look given her by her sister, Lena gathered her books and made her way to the Instructor-Prefect's office.

"Ah, Lena. Please sit." The Instructor-Prefect waved her to a seat after Lena closed the door. "I've received continuing reports of your dismal performance during classes and would wish to know the reason for such behavior."

Lena affected an injured expression while trying to suppress a bored yawn on the inside. _Heard this before a thousand times, haven't we?_ "I don't understand what you mean by 'dismal', Prefect. I achieve perfect marks on all of my exams, both practical and written."

"But that's just it, Lena. Your scores are almost unmatched in the history of Caseworker instruction, but almost anyone whom we ask about this says that you don't seem to know what you're doing until the very day of testing. It's like you're pulling the answers out of thin air."

"Are you accusing me of cheating, Instructor-Prefect?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that, but I would warn you that you are now under strict monitoring. One more negative report and you will be banished from the curricula altogether and can look forward to a rewarding career in the Supply Department. Is that clear?"

Sigh. "Yes, Instructor-Prefect."

* * *

"Lena, if I see you fondling that damn watch again I'm going to tear your fingers off and make you eat them." Lyla paused her almost monastic perusal of _Dimensional Integrity Dynamics_ long enough to pour another mug full of hot water from the electric kettle near her desk and prepare another infusion of tea.

"You're just jealous because I don't have to study," Lena retorted, flipping the watch between her fingers once more to make sure her sister saw it. "I'm a natural at all of this. Your nose is glued to the books like you were born there and you still barely manage passing marks!"

"I could tolerate you if you were just my roommate and not my sister." Lyla resettled herself in her chair and adjusted the desk lamp for more comfortable reading. "That way Mum wouldn't take such offense if I had to slap you every now and then."

Lena slipped the watch under her pillow for safekeeping and sat up to watch her sister at work. "Just face it – I'm brilliant, and you're jealous. By the way, the answer to question three is 'C'."

* * *

"I must say that your credentials are excellent, Smith. You present some ideas on interdimensional travel that I find intriguing, and your work in extraterrestrial survival theory is – I hesitate to say this – beautiful. Not as good as my own, of course, but definitely worth developing."

"Oh. Well, er, thank you." _And thanks to Mum for the correspondence courses she left in the bathroom._ "If I might say so, Mr. Rattigan, you have a wonderful facility here. Quite the place for the developing young mind."

"Yes, Smith, you may say so. Notice the key word is 'young,' though." A nervous rubbing-together of the hands. "I've surrounded myself with my chronological peers because of their as of yet untapped flexibility and potential, both mentally and physically. There's not a single person in my academy over the age of eighteen, myself included. You're – ah, you're 22."

"And this is a bad thing? It doesn't take a genius to figure out what you're aiming for, sir, and that is the eventual possibility of developing and inhabiting another planet. You won't find any work like mine, and I will take it with me when I leave today. How does that strike you?"

"You drive a hard bargain." Rattigan grimaced as he turned the details over in his mind, then sighed heavily. "But it is a bargain that I will have to accept. Welcome to the Academy – I'll have a copy of the indoctrination packet couriered up in just a moment." Another pause, thoughtful expression. "You see, I only invited a select number of people from around the world. You weren't on the list. How could I have missed someone like you?"

"Sometimes genius doesn't advertise," Junior muttered, shrugging.

"Well said. And while I would never admit to something so pedestrian as a mistake – those at our level don't make _mistakes_, do they, Smith? - I will apologize for my oversight." A step back, glance up and down as the smaller youth evaluated his taller colleague. "I, ah, don't even think we have uniforms in your size."

This brought a frown to Junior's face. "Uniforms? I didn't hear anything about that. You make genius wear a uniform?"

"Just a sweatsuit. It's comfortable and eliminates the distraction of civilian attire among the workforce."

"Ah. I see." Junior gave Rattigan a mirroring assessing glance and a pointed eyebrow lift. "And as the supreme genius, I assume you're above such trivialities? Or is it simply because your name's on the stationery?"

The younger man winced at this sharp remark, forced himself to laugh when he realized that it had been intended as a deliberate insult. "Sarcasm, while sometimes appropriate to the situation, is another distraction that we cannot afford. If I am to let you stay, I can't let you work with the rest of the students."

A dry smirk. "You're afraid that I'll infect their minds and disrupt their unquestioningly bovine acceptance of your idiosyncrasies. I'm _so_ glad I looked you up, but I'm afraid I'll be taking my leave of you now."

"Touche." Rattigan shrugged, turned as if to walk away, then stopped as another thought occurred to him. "I do have one last project that I could use a second pair of eyes on – if you can spare the time on your way out the door."

"And you question my use of sarcasm?" Junior sighed, but the smirk remained in place as he muttered, "Far be it from me to refuse a child prodigy in his moment of weakness. I'll help you so long as you don't make me wear the sweatpants."

* * *

"_Are we to assume that your development of the system remains on schedule?"_

"Yes, sir. You may assume that." Rattigan squinted down at the nearly illegible commentary made in the blowout diagrams' margins, pointing out weaknesses and inconsistencies in the system's design. "If I might say something, though?"

"_Suggestions rarely have their place in military actions. That is a human weakness that you would be wise to overcome."_

"Yeah, yeah. Well, you might be brilliant when it comes to military strategizing, but you're lousy at environmental engineering. I've already had to make several revisions to your initial plans for the atmospheric converter."

"_What we gave you was only a template. So long as your final product does what we require, we do not care how many changes you have to make. Terminate connection!"_


	4. Wishes Fulfilled

**4 – Wishes Fulfilled**

"And thanks in part to you, ATMOS has reached fifty percent worldwide distribution. The reports are in that folder." Junior accepted said folder from his cohort and flipped it open to idly peruse the charts and graphs within. "As agreed, I've diverted forty-five percent of my net profits to your account. It's a substantial amount and I feel that it's quite sufficient to ensure your continued silence about your involvement."

"Silence is indeed golden," Junior murmured and reached up to retrieve his pen from its usual place behind one of his ears, blinking in befuddlement when he came away with a toothbrush instead. "Was wondering where that'd gotten to. You wouldn't happen to know where my pen is, would you?"

Rattigan sighed impatiently and pointed to the other side of Junior's head. "It's – it's right there. Where it usually is."

"Right, thanks." Junior put the toothbrush in another pocket and grabbed the inkpen, uncapping it with his teeth long enough to sign the various forms before handing them back and re-capping the pen. "I'll assume you want me to disappear for another week or so? Or would you like me to go over some of the students' lab work? Don't get me wrong, it's great stuff, but there are a few cracks that need to be mended here and there before something goes poof."

"And heaven forbid that something 'goes poof'," Rattigan grumbled with exaggerated pantomime of quotes around the phrase he found distasteful. "Don't get me wrong, Smith, you're brilliant – but you are also starting to get on my nerves. Do you want an itemized list, or can you guess what's bothering me?" Baffled silence to this. "I'll make it easy for you since it's still early in the morning and you haven't had your breakfast." Pause, nervous grind of teeth, then, "I can't say this politely but, ah – you're a dweeb! Your terminology is deviant, your clothing is – well, I relaxed the policy for you seeing as you're more staff than student, but still – appalling, and your scientific method is almost nonexistent."

"You do realize that if I actually hailed from your portion of the geek-sphere, I would be deeply wounded by your words?" Junior asked mildly, scratching the back of his head.

"You suggested that one of my students sneeze into a Jello culture to study the survival possibilities of microbes in alien environments!"

Shrug. "Okay, so that was one of my off days. I promise it won't happen again."

"It had better not." Rattigan took a deep breath, held it for a count of two, then exhaled slowly. "All right. Go and get something to eat, then check on Jurek's algae experiments. And could you please at least change your shirt before the students see it?"

"But I thought Freud and mother jokes were brilliant - " Junior saw the hint of a twitch developing in the corner of the younger man's eyes and he held up his hands in an attempt to mollify. "Right, I'll try to keep it strictly to science. No double entendres, even if they are intelligent." He left and walked quietly down the carpeted hall, pausing when he heard the distant trill of a phone back from the direction which he'd come and backing up a few steps until he could pick up the gist of the conversation. _UNIT, hm? What's he got to do with them?_ The caller spoke a few more words, after which Rattigan gave a clipped acknowledgment and ended the call. _Great. May as well run now before he puts the figures together..._

"I know you were listening, Smith. No use in trying to be interested in the artwork." Junior flinched in guilt as Rattigan appeared in the hallway, arms folded across his chest. "You probably guessed already, but we're having some important guests drop by later this afternoon. Be on your best behavior and..." A disdainful snort, then, "Try not to let anything go wrong."

* * *

"That's a good lot – I can smell genius!" The man known to Rattigan solely as the Doctor raced up the steps toward the front doors, adding almost in an afterthought, "In a good way, though." _Doctor of what?_ wondered the youth, gritting his teeth and doing his best to bite back an annoyed comment. _And __why does he seem familiar?_ It was a question that would dog the founder of the academy as he led his guest and their armed escort through the halls. _This man is a thousand degrees of wrongness – no, a million – and UNIT is letting him poke around in _my_ school! They've looked over my inventions, even installed them in their vehicles, so why are they sending an investigator now? I don't like this, not at all._ It was all that Luke Rattigan could do to keep tabs on what the visitor was saying and try to form intelligent answers while at the same time trying to unravel the purpose of his visit, and such was his distraction that he realized he'd made a potentially devastating faux pas as he held the safety curtain aside so that the pair could pass into the lab ahead of him.

"And you'll notice that it's grown more resistant to radiation and other potentially damaging elements, which will be crucial in its transfer to a hostile environment." The tall, skinny young man had changed his shirt from the potentially offensive Freudian joke to a harmless depiction of a caffeine molecule, and Rattigan breathed a sigh of relief to this as well as to the refreshingly professional dialogue held between the older male and the female student he stood next to. Smith glanced up briefly and acknowledged Rattigan's presence with a nod, then resumed his discourse with the student.

_Wait a minute -!_ Rattigan looked from his colleague to his guest, stunned at the resemblance, and risked another look at Smith to see if his theory could hold any weight. Smith had disappeared, though, and Rattigan was distracted from investigating this further by the Doctor's enthusiasm over the various projects in the laboratory.

* * *

Junior held his breath from where he hid under a lab table, safely ensconced away from prying eyes by reinforced steel and the legs of the student with whom he'd spoken moments earlier. _Shit, he noticed me! And he definitely noticed that we look alike. What's he going to do about it?_ He breathed a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deities were in attendance that Ms. Jurek, the student whose sweatpants concealed him from view, had not made any sign of distress at his sudden dive under her lab table. Junior then tried to suppress a groan as the all-too-familiar blue suit pants and sneakers passed by, appending his prayer to request that she would not make audible note of any similarities between the bookishly enthusiastic older man complimenting her work and the bookishly enthusiastic younger man who had just helped her with it.

The moment of fear passed as quickly as it had approached, leaving the students to chatter amongst themselves in open speculation about the visitor and his escort after the two had left. Junior waited a beat before considering emerging from his hiding place and was only snapped from his startlement by a calm inquiry from above. "Excuse me, Mr. Smith, are you having some kind of episode?"

"No, Ms. Jurek, I shall be fine. Just hate strangers, especially strangers with guns." Junior carefully eased himself out from under the table and dusted himself off, then resumed his review of the student's calculations. "Now, we were talking about... algae. That's right, algae."

* * *

Algae was the farthest thing from Junior's mind when chaos broke out almost two hours later. The distant wail of sirens called him from the laboratory where he now worked out the minor flaws in another student's chemical equations on a wall board and, after absently stashing the marker in a random pocket, he dashed outside to investigate.

He stared in disbelief at the sight offered from his vantage point on the front lawn of the Academy – the sight of not-so-distant London swimming in bilious gas unlike any smog he had seen before. He could also only imagine the effect that it was having on the residents of the city, a guess that was confirmed when the first of the students ventured out onto the green next to him. "Frightening, isn't it?" Junior mused aloud as the rest of the group joined him, doing his best to remain calm even as the first signs of panic manifested in the young humans. "Anyone know where it's coming from?" _Though I can hazard a pretty good guess._

"It's the cars, sir," said one of the boys. "Something's gone wrong with the ATMOS and there's nothing anyone can do to stop it."

_Exactly as intended._ "Well, everyone, it hasn't reached us yet. Why don't we all wait here until our fearless leader comes by and tells us what to do?"

Another student, this one female: "But what about our families? Haven't you got anyone down there that you're worried about?"

"Not a one. You're here for a reason, so leave the common folk to their common government."

Cries of outrage arose in response to his comment. "What are you?" hissed a third. "It's like you're not even human!"

"Spot on," Junior muttered, his words lost in the hubbub as the doors flew open to reveal Luke Rattigan.

"Leave it! Turn away," commanded Rattigan, and Junior could almost hear the pleased smirk in his tones as the students obeyed. "Civilization is falling..."

* * *

"And they refused! I gave them the chance of a lifetime and they _refused_! After all I've done for them, they deserve to die along with the rest of the lemmings." Rattigan stalked down the corridor towards his day room and the awaiting teleport device, Junior a few steps behind and offering no comment as the younger man fumed. "A chance to build a better Earth! So what if they had to make a few sacrifices along the way? There's no progress without sacrifice. And what am I supposed to tell my colleagues? Tell me that, Smith."

"Far be it from me to guess the inner machinations of an armored potato-head," Junior replied with a shrug. "What makes you think I've got an inside line?"

"Because you're one of them." A victorious bark of laughter from Rattigan. "Maybe not so tuberous, but an alien nonetheless. No one but an alien could have repaired the flaws in the ATMOS and made it work so efficiently! Aren't you thrilled, Smith? You've helped kill off a planet full of worthless humans – I bet my colleagues would just love you."

"Probably not..."

"Sarcasm, Smith! Your weapon of choice. I'm almost of a mind to take you up with me and let them kill you like they tried to get rid of that father of yours!"

Junior sighed and stopped in his tracks, fixing Rattigan in a patient look that made the younger man shiver at the age and intensity betrayed in the pale eyes. "You're right, Rattigan. I'm not from around here and I'm glad of it. Enjoy your paradise, you've earned it." Then he vanished with a wide grin that infuriated the human and sent him dashing down the hallway once more.

* * *

"You're lucky I didn't have anything more pressing to do than to read through my hate mail," Lilith grumbled, plopping down into the ragged desk chair before she was given invitation to sit. "Normally everything from the Earth-Human Office is immediately flagged for my Go To Hell folder, but you caught me on a good day. What's the crisis this time that you felt the need to scream at me for?"

The Caseworker coughed uncomfortably, unsure of how to handle the tempest that had blown into his office and now kicked booted feet up on his desktop in the overtly uncaring manner that he'd been cautioned about. "Er, it's about your son."

Lilith's jaw dropped in a gape of pleased shock. "My son, you say? It's about time, and a good thing too. If you'd called me up just to bitch about my ex, then I'd just have to tell you to stick it because he is no longer my concern. That train has left the station and I'm quite thrilled to say that I'm no longer the conductor." She caught a glimpse of the flustered flush rising in the younger Sidra's cheeks and smirked as she glanced down at the nameplate on the desk to confirm her suspicion. "You must be new, Erasmus. Was this assignment the luck of the draw, or have you already pissed someone off?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"As your clients say, 'bullshit.' I've caused your office more headaches than the 21st century and I wouldn't be here unless you were either a glutton for punishment, picked the short straw, or gotten someone to hate you." Lilith reached forward to buff a scrape out of the otherwise immaculate polish on her boots. "And I see that Junior's become a chip off the old block. Please tell me he at least stuck to somewhat recent events, relatively speaking?"

"Yes, ma'am." Erasmus ignored the derisive snort from Lilith at his use of the honorific and plunged onward, clinging to the hastily compiled notes on his display. "According to our Field Agent, he not only established himself as a rogue entity at a fragile historical nexus but also aided and abetted the enemy in the slaughter of millions."

The smirk faded only to be replaced by an unreadable eyebrow lift and equally impassive reply. "Really. Show me."

Erasmus complied, rotating the display with a simple finger gesture and nudging it within easy reading distance of his guest. "As you can see, he fraudulently established himself as a genius for hire at an institute of dubious credentials and assisted its founder, Luke Rattigan - "

"I can read, Erasmus. Let me." Lilith glared at the Caseworker, causing him to involuntarily shrink back in his seat away from the cold gaze. Silence assured, she returned to her perusal of the report with a deepening frown of disgust. "Sontarans, UNIT, clone feed... the day saved by alien influence. Yvenda is, as usual, unsparing of praise." She returned the display to its original position and folded her arms across her chest, maintaining her icy consideration of the Sidra across the desk from her. "Pop quiz, newbie: what legal means do you have to deal with this?"

"I – I – " Erasmus turned beet red and glanced down at his desk blotter, then stared up at Lilith angrily. "There are none. Your son is technically not bound to the Commission and thus cannot be governed by its laws."

"Exactly! I would give you a cookie, but I'm afraid I'm fresh out." Lilith swung her feet down to the floor again and rose from her seat, Erasmus coloring further at the sight of loose dirt left behind by his visitor's boot-soles on his obsessively tidy desktop. "And if any of your policy wonks try to tell you otherwise or – Elder forbid – sicc the Chronometrics toadies on my son, pass along a message from me: Over my dead body. I'll handle this on my own."

"That's exactly what we're afraid of," Erasmus muttered.


	5. Memory and Revival

**5 – Memory and Revival**

"For heaven's sake, Lilith, would you at least knock? I installed that security system for a reason."

Lilith waved a hand dismissively at her father and immediately moved for the archive shelf. "I know you did, Dad, and it's to keep the riffraff like me out. You forget that the one you're trying to keep out is the one that designed it." She scanned the spines of the record books until she found what she was looking for, then levitated it off the shelf with a slight pulling motion. "Don't mind me, I'm just checking on something."

"Anything that I can help you with?"

A derisive snort. "I don't know if you're being sarcastic or genuinely trying to care."

"Never mind, then," Cameron grumbled, then returned to his overflowing inbox. "I presume you've heard about the Sontaran problem?"

"Yes, I know that my son was involved with the deliberate elimination of a large chunk of the Earth population. I'm working on that right now." Lilith licked her thumb and flipped past a section of the book, a deepening frown gathering on her face as something became disturbingly evident. "I take that back, Dad. Maybe you can tell me something – what in hell happened to my footnotes on the Lumic case?"

* * *

"Redaction," said the record clerk patiently, wondering if this visitor was genuinely slow or was another difficult customer sent to test her. "It's when sensitive information is removed from the original text to make it available to a wider audience. My records say it happened shortly after the author removed herself from the Commission." She reached across her screen and tapped a few keys, adding, "I'm sure I can find a way to get a hold of the author if you want to speak with her personally. She might be able to tell you what we can't."

"Not necessary," muttered Lilith, fuming.

"Are you sure? We usually can do that, even if the record is gone - " An error chime softly sounded, and the clerk frowned at what the screen told her. "That's strange. It also says that there is no information pertaining to that individual available for public access."

"Horsefeathers." Lilith flicked the display around and scanned it, glaring when she saw that the clerk was telling the truth. "I'm the one who wrote those records. I can't just stop existing when I'm _right here!_"

The clerk quickly reversed the screen and began a frantic series of search strings, swallowing nervously as the results came up. "I'm sorry, ma'am. The only listings concerning Curator Lilith ab'Vensha Tal'este alias Lillian Albright or Lillian Smith are protected by a cobalt-degree archive seal which I'm forbidden to access."

"Then find someone who _can_."

"No one here can, ma'am, and even if there were, you would have to go through the proper channels. Cobalt access requires a sign-off from the Prefect of your department and consideration from the Exarch, neither of which I'm sure you have."

Lilith clenched her fists and rested them on the counter where the clerk could see the whitening knuckles. "Listen. All I want to do is review one incident as a precedent for an ongoing investigation. You can oblige me there, can't you?"

"The only personnel with that authority are assigned to Chronometrics. Can I see some identification?"

Grumbling curses under her breath, Lilith fished inside her jacket for the badge that identified her as a contractor for the Commission. "There. Name, picture, personals... want a blood sample while we're at it?" The clerk peered at the badge, went pale, and stabbed another combination of keys. The air around them tightened with the sense of a seal put in place and Lilith felt her skin begin to itch. "Merciful Matriarch, what did you do?"

"I have my instructions," the clerk stammered. "I'm sorry, but it's what I was told to do in case you showed up."

"Cancel the alarm,"a new voice said. The lights flickered and a third presence became manifest in the form of a ghostly female standing behind the clerk with arms folded. "This woman is not a record-eater or other virus – I would have sensed it if she were and disposed of it appropriately. I have been dealing with such things since your parents were strands in the ether." Protests from the clerk were met by a dark sigh and "Either cancel the alarms or I'll revoke your apprenticeship. I've had enough of your neuroses." The tightening sensation eased, but Lilith's sense of creeping danger did not. She felt a further chill when she got a closer look at the woman – a nearly translucent outline of the feminine form, given body and dimension by shimmering lines of text in too many languages for Lilith to comprehend that flickered past before they could be read. The only disruptions to this pattern came in the form of thick bands in a deep blue hue encircling wrists, ankles, and throat, and her eyes shone in the sightless white of the blind. "Master Archivist Gloriamundi at your service, Lilith. How may I help you?"

Lilith could not stop staring, stunned. "Maybe you can tell me."

A dry smirk. "I only deal in the past, young one, not in the future, and I care not to read your mind. I have read enough of your past exploits and that is quite enough for me, thank you." Gloriamundi noticed the clerk likewise staring in disbelief and sighed. "As you were, apprentice. I shall be in one of the reading rooms if anyone has need of me." She then beckoned Lilith along behind her as she began to move through the massive stacks of records towards a row of doors in the back of the vast chamber. "It looks strange for someone who is not supposed to exist to suddenly show up and demand to know why that is. You won't like the answer – no one who supposedly wants to hear the truth ever actually does." She waited to finish her thought until they were alone in the solitude of the reading room, then said, "The truth is, Lilith, you're being erased from our records because you're wrong."

Lilith felt the blood flare in her cheeks at this bald accusal, stuttered, "What? I can't be – what the hell do you mean, I'm _wrong_?"

"Simple." Gloriamundi removed the blue cuff from one of her wrists and set it aside, then held her palm out towards the large blank wall at the back of the room. "It started when you let that man into your office." The room went dark as the Archivist let the information flow free, and Lilith blinked when she realized that she was observing a scene from her own life in the none-too-distant past. _"You're not Sidney."_

"_Nope. As promised, I am the Doctor… am I interrupting something?"_

The image blurred as Gloriamundi advanced the timestream forward, continuing her explanation. "You then proceeded to step out of your bounds as Curator and become emotionally attached to your client, altering the natural course of events to ensure his survival when it would have been more practical to let him pass."

_The space surrounding them flashed blistering white as the humming turned into a fever shriek. Lilith then became aware of a blistering heat on her back, pain lancing through her body in liquid agony as if she were being torn apart atom by atom._

"These events caused you to change as well, and it is the consensus that your change has not been for the better. Your casual flouting of our cultural mores and remorseless dabbling in the lives of lesser beings has caused immense damage to the fabric of not only our society but of our organization as well. Am I wrong?"

A stone sank in Lilith's gut as she watched further scenes play out - _"So you are suggesting that humankind may once more find salvation in steel?" - __"I thought you were supposed to fall asleep afterwards" - __"Kill me if it'll stop you attacking these people!" - "__If he asks what got into me, I'll just tell him that I did the right thing and voted Saxon -" _and tears began to fall as she heard her own voice one last time.

"_And you think running around with you in that ship of yours is going to be any more of a normal way to grow up? Because that's exactly how it would turn out, Doctor. Staying put is poison to you, and I __refuse to expose my son to your daily dalliances with the strange and sometimes near-fatal sides of time and space."_

"_So you'd rather he stay locked up in an office all day every day, playing with paperclips and having no clue of what's really out there? He's part of me, and that's where he belongs. With me."_

_Lilith took a deep breath to calm her nerves, quickly dabbed her hand at the corners of her eyes. "And no room for me. There never will be. That's why he stays with me, even if that means I lose you, and that's final."_

Then the field of vision returned to normal, Lilith finding herself sunken into the depths of one of the many chairs ringing the perimeter of the reading room with her head in her hands. If Gloriamundi was aware of her audience's distress, she gave no sign of it as she refastened the cuff around her wrist. "That is how it went, Lilith – you became so wrapped up in your client's actions that you gave no thought to your own. Now you see your son following the same path and it disturbs you, yes?" A weak nod. "Good. There is still hope for you yet, even if it is no official concern of ours. One last question for you before you leave: do you know where your fob watch is?"

* * *

"We've all waited, hoped, and prayed that this time would come. It's been a very long time since your training began, and not all of those who began it one hundred years ago have endured until the end. Many were sent to less demanding callings within our organizational sphere, but I may say with great satisfaction that the time has come, ladies and gentlemen, to sit for your Caseworker certifications." The Instructor-Prefect stood back from the podium and surveyed the crowd of thirty younger Sidra, his gaze lingering especially on two young women. One sat in the front row with notebooks and other study implements arranged perfectly in front of her, ready for whatever might come next. Her counterpart slouched in the back, nary a pencil nor paper in sight. In sharp contrast to the practical long slacks and tunic of her sister, the girl in the back of the room wore a pleated skirt on the short side of polite, an immaculate white blouse, and a black waistcoat from which she now withdrew a silver fob watch that she considered for a moment without opening before returning it to its place.

"The examinations will consist of both textbook and practical knowledge for which you will be allowed one week to review as you see fit. Your attendance will not be required in classes, although instructors will be available to answer questions. No study aids will be permitted, nor articles which may be perceived as such." This last statement drew a sudden, sharp stare from the girl in the back, though she said nothing about it. "If there are no further questions for me, you are dismissed for review. We shall see you in one week."

* * *

When Lena returned to the dormitory, she was not surprised to see her sister packing a small duffel bag with a few days' worth of clothing. "Running back home for a quick cram session, are we, Lyla?" she asked, plopping down on the edge of her bed so that she could unlace her boots. "Not that I can blame you. Not all of us are born brilliant."

"And that includes you," Lyla murmured, throwing in one last notebook on top of the clothing before zipping the bag shut. "I'm going to see if Granddad will let me sit shadow on him for the week, maybe go over some of the archives with me so that I can see how he and the others handled rough situations." She saw her sister open her mouth to make a remark and held up a hand to halt her. "If sarcasm and snazzy accessories were all that we needed to be Caseworkers, Lena, then I'm sure you'd be the best of us. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

* * *

Sleep did not come easily for Lena that night, nor did it any of the nights that followed in that week. The dormitory seemed eerily quiet with most of the students gone for their final review, leaving Lena to creep like a specter through the tiled halls in search of a solution to the problem that plagued her. Artificial dawn filtering down through the skylight on the morning of the final day found her curled up on her bed, note papers scattered around her like so many crumpled flags of defeat. "I don't know any of this," she muttered, brushing a strand of greasy hair out of her face. "Matriarch! I've sat through all of the courses and none of it's stuck – and they'll confiscate the watch if I bring it in with me. What am I supposed to do now? I can't very well just give up and consign myself to Archives or something equally boring. I've got better things to do with my life."

She stood up to stretch and had to move quickly as a familiar object fell out of the pocket of her bathrobe. The fob watch felt cool to her touch, an alien form now as Lena looked at the engravings anew and pondered their meaning. "I don't know what's so special about this anyway. It's just a watch that I nicked off of Mum's nightstand when she wasn't looking because I thought it was pretty."

_Wrong._

The clarity of the voice startled her, almost causing her to drop the watch once more. "I'm... sorry?"

_You're wrong on both counts – this isn't just a watch, and you took it because I told you to._

Lena shook her head quickly from side to side, unsure if this was real or a fatigue-induced hallucination. "And the next thing you're going to tell me is that you're trapped inside the watch. God, I sound like a loon, don't I? You can't be real – I'd always thought you were just a - "

_A figment of your imagination? I've been with you since before you were born, in the back of your mother's mind and now in this bloody watch where she put me when she thought I was too dangerous._

"Now that just does it! First thing tomorrow I'm going to march into that exam room, turn in my resignation, and put this damn thing back where it belongs." Lena tried to put the watch back into her pocket and move her mind on to other things, but the metal now grew warm as if alive and refused to slide free from her skin. "Now I've really got to be seeing things..."

_Listen to me one last time before you go off and do something stupid,_ the voice said, stopping Lena in her tracks. _Deep down in your heart you really don't want to admit defeat, do you? You don't want that prissy sister of yours to make you look like a fool, and I don't want to be stuck in here any longer. _Silence as Lena considered the idea, deepened by the grudging knowledge that the voice was right. _Just open the watch and this will all be taken care of. Trust me._

"Not like I've really got much to lose, now do I? Talentless failure versus... who knows?" Lena sighed and moved her thumb to the catch of the fob watch, lingered a moment, then depressed it. The case flipped open and a brilliant glow swam outward, completely swallowing the young Sidra whole in burning radiance as she realized what she'd done. _If she'd put whoever this is inside here in the first place, she must have had a good reason – _Then that line of thought was extinguished as a foreign presence pushed its way into her brain, searing the synapses as it ravenously consumed each particle of identity and made the mind its own. She sank to the floor, retching, blacking out when the sensation was finally too much for her overburdened conscious to endure, and remained there for some time.

* * *

Lyla knocked on the door once, twice, then set her baggage down with an aggravated sigh and fumbled for her key. She was surprised to encounter resistance when she opened the door and squeaked in alarm when she saw that it came from her sister's outstretched arm from where the other lay in an unresponsive heap on the floor. "Lena! I know I gave you garbage about not studying, but isn't this taking things a little bit far?" She knelt down next to her sister and felt for a pulse, reached a little bit further inside to make sure the essence was still intact, and breathed a sigh of relief when both checked out. "All right. All I need to do is make sure that there are no serious injuries to the flesh, then get you back to bed and let you sleep this out..."

Lena coughed a few times and then forced herself to sit, making a few checks of her own and nodding when all was in order. She glanced up at Lyla with momentary incomprehension, then forced a weak smile. "Don't worry. Everything's all right, just need a shower and a bite to eat and I'll be up and running again."

"If you say so." Lyla waited until the other had gathered her things and disappeared for morning ablutions before making a brisk search of the papers scattered around the room. "Something's not right about that one and I've got to find out what," she muttered, making a disgusted noise when the papers proved inconclusive. Her gaze then fell on the silver fob watch, lying abandoned for a moment in a corner where it had fallen from Lena's bathrobe pocket in her earlier collapse. Lyla pounced on the watch with no second thoughts and prised it open, letting out a mew of dismay when all it revealed was a serenely ticking clock face. "If not this, then what is it?"


	6. Perils of Progeny

_Author's Note, 29March09: I have been afflicted by a superfluity of plot bunnies as of late. You saw the first of them in the previous chapter and my attempts to wrangle them into something coherent continue. Thanks for reading this far - hopefully the bunnies will not disappoint._

_

* * *

_

**6 – Perils of Progeny**

Lilith was not surprised to see her father still at work late into the evening when she finally returned to the office. In a grudging nod to his sensibilities, she knocked on the door and waited to be granted permission before entering in a subdued mood. "Something's wrong," grumbled Cameron, glancing up at his daughter briefly before returning to his latest stack of papers. "You knocked instead of barging in like you usually do."

Lilith sat down in one of the spare chairs with a quiet sigh, murmured, "I just got told by the Master Archivist that I was 'wrong,' Dad. Cut me some slack."

"Gloriamundi actually took the time to talk to you? Hm. That is something else." Cameron stamped a coversheet with his seal and set it and its attendant forms aside. "Your daughters are taking their certification exams today. That should make you happy, at least."

A weak smile. "Yeah. Nice to know I'm not a complete and epic failure."

"Never said you were, Lilith. You were an excellent Curator and a decent Field Agent, but Elder knows what happened to you after that. Not much we can do to change it, though, is there?" Cameron mirrored his daughter's smile as he put his completed work in the appropriate slots and bins. "You're still learning, though. There's not a single one of us here that knows everything."

"I just wish my personal life wasn't everyone's study piece. Then again, according to her, I kind of brought it on myself..." Lilith settled a bit lower in the chair until she was comfortable. "And at this point I'm too tired to argue. I bet you're going to be happy to finally have some dedicated help around the office, even though they're going to be interns for another fifty years."

"I must admit I like the sound of that." Cameron rolled his chair over to a nearby filing cabinet, on top of which he kept a small coffee and tea service. "It would also finally give your son license to run around as he wishes on someone else's clock instead of mine. He creates more work than he helps with." Lilith refused to rise to the bait, instead selecting a cup from the tray and filled it with hot, fresh coffee. "Have you decided how you're going to punish him for his involvement with ATMOS and the Sontarans?"

A contemplative sip, then, "No, I haven't. While I'll admit what he did wasn't stellar, there's nothing that I can do to reverse it."

Cameron's reply was cut short by another knock on the door, which he answered with a gruff, "What?"

"_Caseworker Lyla ab'Vensha reporting for duty, sir."_

This brought a wide grin to Cameron and a surprised blink from Lilith. Cameron got up to answer the door and waved his granddaughter into the office. "I never thought I'd see the day. Congratulations, and welcome!"

Lilith allowed herself another small smile over the rim of her coffee cup and grumbled, "Well done. Let's just hope you aren't a screw-up like your mother was." She then noticed that Lyla was alone and the smile vanished. "Not to rain on your parade, but where's your sister?"

Lyla gave her mother a puzzled look. "I don't know what you mean. She reported to the testing room on time this morning, but I haven't seen her since we were separated for our practical exams."

"I passed, thank you for asking." A new voice in the open doorway caused the trio to turn. Lena leaned in the open portal, twirling a freshly laminated badge on its lanyard around one finger. A simple hand in motion changed the trajectory of the badge and sent it flying through the air to land on the floor at Lilith's feet. "But as I was sitting there getting my picture taken for my ID card, I realized that I have better things to do. I've passed all of your stupid little tests and..." A long ruminating sigh, then a brilliant smile. "I don't need you anymore. None of you, none of this."

In the stunned silence that followed this announcement, Lena reached into the pocket of her waistcoat and took out the fob watch, which she then unhooked from the garment and sent it following the badge, laughing as Lilith scrambled to catch it before it hit the floor. "You really should keep better track of your things, Mother. Bye."

Lilith made the connection just as Lena vanished, catching an impression of the latter's mind just as she vanished. "Hell..."

* * *

"I don't know what to make of him, sir. He appeared out of nowhere and so far has been completely useless – he has no aptitude for weaponry or combat, and the soldiers we get from him are – ah, defective."

General Cobb broke his silent study of the young man sleeping in the cell to look at Cline skeptically. "What do you mean, defective? The machine hasn't produced a bad soldier yet."

"They know the protocols, sir, but they refuse to fight. It's like they know that this was all that they were made for, and they think it's better just to die than to engage the enemy."

"If he can't even provide good stock, then he's of no use to me." The general sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly, muttering, "Maybe we should just throw him at the Hath and let them figure him out. Hopefully with a gun."

"We've even tried that, sir," said Cline with a grimace. "And when the smoke clears, they're all dead... except for him."

Cobb was quiet for a long moment. "He's not hurting anyone by staying here. Maybe we'll figure out to do with him once we get to the Source."

"Maybe, sir. Or maybe one time he won't be so lucky."

The pair left the cell block, leaving Junior alone. He had laid still while the soldiers spoke among themselves, pretending to be asleep so that he could better get a bearing on what was happening. This assignment had come from his mother with Cameron's stamp of approval and the only particulars given being the date and location. A cryptic footnote had been appended to the file in his mother's neat script: _Since you get such a thrill out of destroying people, I'm sending you to a place where the locals do nothing but. Tell me how long it takes before you get tired of it._

The given coordinates had landed him in the midst of a pile of dead bodies in a dank cavern that still reeked of burnt flesh and recent gunfire. Junior had only a moment to notice the piscine features of the corpses before he felt the barrel of a gun jammed into the small of his back and was given the brisk order to show his hands. He had assumed that his captors were checking for weapons but was instead startled when he was marched over to a strange contraption and ordered to put his hand inside. A brief stinging sensation made him wince in pain, but that was soon eclipsed when a nearby cubicle opened and Junior had stared into the direct gaze of pale eyes identical to his own. _A clone!_ The young man had merely raised an eyebrow in a faint mirror of Junior's puzzlement and accepted a weapon from another member of the patrol group.

General Cobb had answered the question of what to do with the offworlder with an eye-roll and a gruff "What else? He'll fight like the rest of us," without giving much thought as to how that would turn out, and ordered that Junior be given fatigues and a weapon like the rest of the troop.

"And that was a disaster," Junior muttered, shifting positions on the narrow bench and remembering his few combat trials. As leader of his patrol group, Cline had given up on projectile weapons for the recruit and quickly switched tactics, giving the newcomer a bandoleer of grenades on the premise that one didn't need so precise an aim, just an ability to count. In the long run, Junior had been assessed as more of a risk than an asset and had been removed to a prison cell where he would not impede operations.

In the background beyond his cell, Junior could hear the sounds of a combat unit in varying stages of preparation and readiness – clattering equipment, dashing footsteps, the occasional cry of the wounded, and above all the voice on the loudspeaker announcing the latest roster of casualties. _I wonder if any of those are mine,_ he mused as the numbers tolled on. His hand still stung from his third trip to the machine – still as much of a shock as the first time – and an even bigger shock as a stray thought wandered through his mind. _Sweet Purple Matriarch! That makes me a father... doesn't it? Mum's __going to have kittens when she hears._

He drifted off to sleep for real this time, but this did not last long as the shuffling of many pairs of feet in the halls leading to the cells alerted him to the arrival of a new group of prisoners. Junior blanched when he saw his father flanked by two women – one older and red-haired, garbed in civilian attire, and the other a young blonde in combat attire that had seen little wear. Cline brought up the rear of the group, weapon at the ready in case the three should try anything suspicious. The Doctor and the women were put into the cell across the aisle from where Junior lay, giving him ample opportunity to observe their actions. After closing the door and locking it, Cline took up guard with the exasperated air of one who was not quite sure of what he had gotten himself into.

* * *

Donna found that she was enjoying herself in spite of the strange situation. She had spent the past five minutes listening to the Doctor and his daughter argue, the Doctor trying to prove his pacifist credentials and the quick-witted Jenny backing him into a corner with each statement until he was finally left without retort and was forced to quickly change the subject. _That right there shows she's his. A smart-ass right to the end, she is..._

The Doctor now made a few adjustments to Donna's mobile and dialed a number, beaming in relief when it connected to a very alive Martha Jones somewhere else in the subterranean complex. Donna took this down time to take stock of her surroundings, again noticing the plate above the doorway graven with the strange combination of numbers. Her gaze then wandered across the hall to a cell slightly smaller than theirs that housed a young man in soldier's garb. Something about him seemed oddly familiar, but the dim light prevented her from pinpointing it exactly. _Oh well. Doesn't hurt to talk to him, doesn't it?_ "Hey, you! What've they got you in here for?"

The prisoner grinned tiredly and said, "Oh, I don't know. Being rude, not ginger and generally useless, maybe?"

"I'll second the generally useless part," Cline muttered, having overheard the conversation.

"Oi! Not talking to you," Donna snapped back, inwardly smiling when the guard fell into silence. "When did they hatch you, or are you a hitchhiker too?"

"That's me, stuck on a strange planet with a bunch of hostile fish-men and no towel to speak of." The grin widened when he saw Donna roll her eyes, and he waved her disgust away with a light hand gesture that brought the scar of recent tissue sampling into view. "Seriously, though, I'm not from around here. My mother sent me here to teach me a lesson, though I don't know if she anticipated me running into you lot. She and Granddad generally try to steer me away."

"Probably because of the headache," Donna muttered. "You're not making any sense." She then noticed a prominent muteness on the Doctor's end and looked back to see him likewise staring across the hall dumbfounded. "Hey, spaceman, mind explaining this one?"

Jenny turned her head to see what the noise was all about and blinked once or twice to make sure she wasn't seeing things. "I think I'd like to hear this."

"Long story," the Doctor mumbled, trying to get a grasp on a situation that he felt was rapidly running away from his control. "Yeah. Long story."

"Then give us the Cliff Notes," pressed Donna. "I do better with summaries anyway, especially from you."

Silence for another second or two, and then a sigh from across the hall. "Long story short, he's my dad. Hello, all, nice to meet you."


	7. Brilliant, Otherwise Useless

**7 – "Brilliant, Otherwise Useless"**

"You're his son?" Jenny was the first to speak after a long moment of silence, giving the young man in the neighboring cell a long, hard stare of merciless critique that made Junior shift uncomfortably where he sat. "Well, that fits. Based on what I know about you, that makes perfect sense. Sharp as a tack but completely unsuited for direct combat, just like your father!"

Junior winced at this description at first but could not help a smile when he saw a mirroring wince on the Doctor's face. "Yep, that's about right. Brilliant in a jam but otherwise useless. Sorry you have to be stuck in jail with us."

"Stuck, nothing!" Jenny shook her head, muttering, "With all of the brains around here, someone has got to be able to figure out how to get out of a simple jail cell."

"Then again, you are my half-sister in a kind of weird way," mused Junior, still stinging from Jenny's bald assessment. "You've got some of that uselessness mixed in somewhere, don't you?"

The inhabitants of the prison fell silent for some time, Junior pondering the dirt on the floor between his feet as he considered his options. _If I really wanted to make this easy, I could just tweak things a bit and do a nice little matter exchange, move the group of them from the cell out into the hall – _But before he could figure out the logistics of this, Jenny had sidled up to where Cline leaned against the bars and was now murmuring in his ear. _Feminine wiles, eh? Good one, but kissing him! Ugh._

Then Cline was unlocking the cell with his own gun at his back, Jenny shooting Junior a triumphant grin as the trio darted up the stairs away from the prison. Cline, dazed, blinked a few times and then glared down at Junior. "Don't get any ideas! I don't know where you come from, but I'm not going to let you kiss me. God, I really don't want to tell the General, but I really should..." Cline swallowed once deeply to fortify his nerves and then dashed up the stairs in the wake of his escaped prisoners, leaving Junior to his own devices in the prison block.

"Well then, don't mind if I get myself loose," Junior muttered, closing his eyes and focusing his energies for the required transfer. He opened his eyes once the process was done and took a quick inventory of all parts to make sure that he hadn't forgotten anything, then noticed that his escape had not gone without witnesses. "Right. Erm, hello. I'll just put myself right back into the cell, one moment - "

The young soldier shouldered his rifle with a sigh. "Don't be stupid. I was originally planning on busting you out myself, but it seems you've got that covered."

Junior blinked to see a carbon copy of himself standing in the stairwell with a faint frown of exasperation on the features that he knew all too well. "Nice to know someone useful came along from the useless genes, right? Why aren't you going after the Source with the rest of the humans?"

"For one, I'm not human, so I'm not obligated to follow their motives. You should know that, Dad." The youth grinned at the look of shock on his elder's face. "I don't know what's so bad about letting the Hath get to the Source, but we sure as hell can't let Cobb and his lot get there first. Let's see if we can't beat them to it!" He paused for a moment, set the rifle aside, and unclipped the bandoleer of grenades from around his slender waist. "I seem to recall that these are the only weapons you seem to have any aptitude with. Your brain might be formidable and you might be able to walk through jail walls, but I doubt that even your glorified gray matter could stop a bullet if it wanted to."

Junior accepted the grenades with a grudging nod and draped the sash around his torso for easy access. "And now we, like my father before me, will throw ourselves into the jaws of danger just for a chance to see a shiny object and poke it with a stick," he muttered and waved off the puzzled look given him by his son. "Sally forth!"

"Allons'y!" The clone stopped and blinked. "Wonder where that came from..."

* * *

Lilith heaved a sigh as she watched the two eerily similar young men pelt down a narrow corridor, the one bearing a rifle running just a few steps ahead of his grenade-armed counterpart. "Look at them, Dad," she muttered, nudging Cameron to get his attention away from his paperwork. "Grinning like a pair of lunatics. They don't even know half of what they're getting into and I don't think they mind."

"Not a fig," Cameron replied, not looking up. "Then again, I think it runs in the family." Lilith glared at her father, getting a dry smile in response. "Don't get your hackles up, dear - our line has always been one of the more adventurous in the Commission. Why do you think we were given custody of the Time Lords?"

Lilith laughed disbelievingly. "You, adventurous? Not to be rude, Dad, but you don't seem the type."

"There's always one. Thank the Elder for your mother."

* * *

The initial thrill of the chase had long worn off for Donna as she trailed along behind the Doctor with Jenny forming the rearguard of the group. Even though she knew trouble was not that far behind them – _it always is, isn't it?_ she thought, shaking her head – one essential detail of their flight continued to nag at her like a pebble in her shoe. "Can I ask you a question, Doctor? What makes this one," she chucked a thumb back at the ever-vigilant Jenny, "more worthwhile than that other kid? Is it because she's new?"

The Doctor grumbled something under his breath, then continued more audibly, "In case you haven't figured it out, this isn't the time."

"And you would be the expert on that, wouldn't you?" interjected Jenny. "I'm curious too – why didn't you take him along? He's useless with a gun, but he looks smart."

"I'll be sure to tell him you said so." The Doctor skidded to a halt, cocking his ear to listen for sounds of their pursuers and nodding in satisfaction when there were none. "If he's anything like his parents, he's more than capable of taking care of himself."

"So you're just going to leave him to deal with that crop of jarheads on his own?" Donna gave Jenny an apologetic glance. "That's mighty cold of you, _Dad_."

The emphasis on the last word elicited an ugly scowl of emotions from the Doctor whose sources Donna was afraid to guess at. "I need to think, Donna, and for that I need some quiet. Can you do that?"

Donna tossed off a sarcastic salute and turned away, folding her arms across her chest in frustration. Then the sound of a commotion not far away caught her attention and it was her turn to listen. Her heart sank when she heard the spatter of bullets and a sickening squelch as one found its target...

* * *

Junior could only stare at the sodden tear in the clone's pant leg from where the bullet had pierced flesh and wonder at the youth's casual dismissal of the wound as they continued their breakneck pace down the corridor. "Shouldn't you stop and fix that?"

"No time," was the reply, hissed through gritted teeth. "Unless you want them to shoot you too?"

Junior swallowed in a dry throat and searched for the right answer, ultimately resigning himself to a mute head-shake. But there was no denying that the youth's pace was slowing and that each step exacted a greater toll on the cloned body than the ones before. He finally faltered, swayed, and would have fallen to the ground had Junior not caught him and braced him with one arm under the shoulders. "Come on, I've got you. We'll catch up with them in a little bit - "

Another shot rang out in the silence and the clone fell, clutching at the ragged hole in his chest where the second bullet had made its exit. Junior's pulse hammered in his ears as the younger man sagged to the ground and gasped for breath, the rifle dropping from shock-numbed fingers as his companion eased him to rest on the corridor floor. _Sweet Matriarch, I don't know what to do! I can fix me, but can I fix him the same way? Just redirect the energy through my hands, mend the tissues together – damnit, focus - _

"Let him die. He's a worthless lump if I've ever seen one, and you'll follow soon enough."

General Cobb's harsh rasp cut through Junior's distraction enough for the latter to realize that he'd been surrounded by the general's troops. The wounded clone's breaths grew labored, his eyes staring unfocused at a point on the ceiling just past Junior's head. "You shot him in the back like a coward."

"You expect me to treat him with honor? He's a traitor." Cobb made his way through the encirclement to where Junior crouched and picked up the clone's rifle. Junior braced for the inevitable as the general raised it and took aim. "Weak pacifist stock, just like you. By all rights, I should eliminate you too... unless you can prove me wrong."

Cobb then engaged the safety and lowered the weapon, turning it so that his captive could take it to hand. Junior glared up at the general with unadulterated rage. "What do you think you're doing? He's dying and I need to help him!"

"Over my dead body." The troops encircling the trio of general, captive, and wounded shifted uneasily at this unnecessary act of daring by their leader, their shuffling and muttering plainly audible in the quiet corridor. "Well?"

The matter was resolved as the clone's body heaved with one last brutal, gurgling bout of coughing, then went slack. Cobb rolled his eyes and tossed the rifle to the floor by Junior's feet. "I thought so." He then looked up to his squad and waved them down the corridor. "We've wasted enough time. Let's go!"

* * *

Lilith felt something in her core grow colder with each passing moment until she finally turned away from the wall and its gruesome image. "I can't believe this is happening. I send him down to Messaline to get a taste of war, and – and he gets this! I've got to do something."

Her father took his spectacles off and folded them shut before putting them in the pocket of his suit jacket. When Cameron looked up at Lilith once more, the heaviness in his gaze stopped her in her tracks. "Such as?"

Lilith looked down at her feet for a moment and then back to her father. "You're right, I've done enough. Time to let him figure things out for himself." She then let herself out of the office, leaving the final images of bloodshed frozen on the wall for all to see.

Cameron stared at the spot where his daughter had stood for some time, then considered the scene on the wall. In it a bewildered young man knelt on the ground next to the one he had failed to save, smeared with blood and grime, back bowed in utter defeat. "You're made of stronger stuff than that," the Caseworker muttered, "and it's time to move. You can mourn later."

It is unlikely that Cameron's sentiment carried across space and Time, but something changed in that moment in the young man on the screen. Cameron stared in disbelief, watching as Junior straightened himself, wiped the traces of tears from his face, and scooped up the discarded rifle. _"I'll come back, I promise,"_ the older Caseworker heard his grandson mutter, and then a mask of cold determination fell over the younger man's features as he trotted off down the corridor. Cameron blinked and focused his will to follow Junior's next actions.

* * *

The corridor was silent for some time after Junior left, empty save for the body of the young soldier left behind on the floor. No one noticed when the lights flickered and went dim for a moment or, for that matter, that the temperature dipped a few degrees. Then a tall, spare-figured woman – a manifestation of the cold with her icy skin and strange inky silver hair – appeared where previously there had been empty corridor. She removed her glasses and put them into a coat pocket, then looked around her with abyss-dark eyes taking in the situation. "Just as I left it," she muttered, then looked down at the body. "Now let's see – what have we here?"

* * *

With the trill of new life and adventure humming through her veins, Jenny did not bother to verify that the shuttle she chose for her escape was in fact empty before she jumped into the pilot's seat and launched it into space. Separated as the cockpit was from the main cabin, she could not have heard the startled yelp and awkward thud as the shuttle's other occupant was jarred loose from their perch and was taken completely aback by the sudden aggrieved chirp of an intercom. She pressed the button uncertainly and ventured a cautious "Hello?" to the presence on the other side.

"_Hello yourself. Enough with the hotdogging already, some of us aren't strapped in." _Jenny's eyes narrowed when she recognized the voice of the young man who had occupied the cell across from hers.

"You! You're his son, aren't you? The brilliant but useless one?"

"_Yep, that's me. Now could you please level this thing out so I can at least get my seatbelt fastened? There's a lot of universe to see yet and I'd like to do it with as little broken as possible, thank you much."_


	8. The Beast Inside the Archives

**8 – The Beast in the Archives**

**I'm sorry, but I'm afraid my knowledge of that topic is limited. Is there something else I could assist with?**

Lena scowled up at the bookshelves in front of her, filled with volumes of varying shapes and sizes on every topic that she could imagine – all, save for the one topic that nagged her mind like a pebble in her shoe. No matter which angle she approached it from, it remained bafflingly blank. "No, no. It's not your fault, my dear. Since you weren't created in the natural means, your knowledge is parallel to and limited by mine." She took a seat on the deck and patted it comfortingly. "It's aggravating, I know, but we can only strive for perfection."

The ship was silent for a moment in thought, then ventured, **If you don't know, then maybe **_**he**_** would - **

Lena gathered where this was going and scowled darkly. "Haven't you learned a single thing? We can't go running to him every time we need to know something. Besides, he'll want to know _why_ we want to recreate a soul after its passing, what we intend to do with it, and then give us a self-righteous lecture on why good people shouldn't mess with the dead." The scowl turned into a sneer as another thought occurred to the girl. "Come to think of it, I don't believe that even the good Doctor knows how to accomplish such a thing."

**Not so,** said the ship quietly. **He might know something of the process used to revive you during the Time War.**

"Oh, would you _stop_ already?" Lena slapped the deckplate in irritation. "That's only a slim possibility and one that I won't waste my time looking into. Besides, he doesn't even know who I am. Why spoil such a wonderful surprise?" She jumped to her feet, quickly dusted herself off, and sprinted up the staircase to the control room. "I refuse to pick that man's brain when I have access to billions of years of technically flawless reporting from a race that not only prides itself on anal-retentiveness, but encourages it! Watch and learn, my darling – we may have some use for the Sidra yet."

* * *

"What in the name of the Elder is going on?" Cameron roared, glaring down at the carpet where the stray ID badge still lay, its image of Lena grinning mockingly fixed for all to see, then turned his fury back to his daughter. "I have survived each catastrophe you drag across my threshold, Lilith, and after each one I pray that it was the last inconvenience that I will have to endure on your behalf!" He took a deep breath to gather his thoughts but failed to regain his composure. "Is this the latest on your list of ill-starred experiments? That creature wore your daughter's skin but, unless my senses deceive me, that was most assuredly _not_ her."

Lilith rounded on her father, her fingers turning white in their grip on the fob watch. "And you think I ask for all of this to happen? As was so wonderfully pointed out to me earlier, a good deal of this _is_ my fault, but it's not like I sat on Lena's shoulder and told her to change! If she was so malleable as to listen to a ghost inside a watch, then the character flaw is her own – not mine."

"A ghost inside a - " Cameron sputtered, trying to make sense of Lilith's words. "Tell me plainly what happened, or I'll have you up in front of a board of inquiry before you can blink."

Lilith bit down a sharp reply and instead turned to the wall of books nearest Cameron's desk. She selected a volume after quick consideration and flipped it open, then shoved it into her father's hands. "Read it for yourself. Time Lords can rewrite their genes if need be and lock their essences away inside watches for retrieval later. I tried to adapt the technology to seal away a fragment..."

Cameron looked down at the volume that Lilith referenced and felt a stone sink in the pit of his stomach. "I won't even try to fathom the implications of a morally-adrift Time Lord fused into a Sidra body because I fear that I might explode once more. Just do me one favor, Lilith?"

Lilith braced herself for whatever withering remark might come next from her father, grumbled, "Depends on what."

"Keep him... her... _it _out of the Archives."

* * *

The Master Archivist was waiting when Lilith arrived, a faint smile on the ghostly features suggesting that she'd anticipated this event some time ago. Ignoring the dumbfounded gape of the duty librarian, Lilith followed Gloriamundi back to the latter's office. "I'm sorry to inconvenience you like this," Lilith began, trying her hardest to ease her nervous thoughts as she paused at the threshold. "It's bad enough that I've caused most of these problems - "

"The first step is admitting that you have a problem," the Archivist replied, and Lilith was not sure whether she was joking or not. She waved a hand to beckon her guest inside, then flicked the door closed behind the both of them and locked it. "Nothing is beyond my notice, not even the misadventures of your offspring – and while my jurisdiction may be the past, that doesn't mean I cannot be amused by the present or concerned for the future."

The Master Archivist's voice echoed oddly in the featureless expanse of white space that she called her 'office,' and when Lilith looked over her shoulder for the reassuring presence of the door, she found that it too had vanished into the abyss. She then made the mistake of looking down and realized that she stood on empty air. "Guess the concept of a floor is kind of moot if you don't actually have a body," Lilith muttered, then noticed with a blink that Gloriamundi had disappeared from sight. "Um, excuse me..."

"_I'm still here. I just find it easier to focus if I don't have to worry about a physical form."_ The lights went out and the emptiness began to suffocate; then a bright network of glowing points exploded across Lilith's field of vision, accompanied by the Master Archivist's soothing tones. _"You're seeing everyone that's connected to the Archives right now. I can verify their credentials and eliminate irrelevant entries."_ The points of light vanished one by one until one single orb remained. _"There she is. Now the fun begins."

* * *

_

"You would think they would have canceled my credentials the moment I walked out, but I guess even I fell through the cracks this time." Lena cracked her knuckles one by one and flexed her fingers in anticipation. "Don't limit yourself to what I'm looking at, dear. Feast and enjoy!" She settled herself down in her seat and pulled the keyboard down within reach, then began to form her queries at breakneck speed.

**There's so much to look at. I almost don't know where to start.**

"Pick something that interests you and then move on from there. Normally I'd be of more help, but I'm a little busy..." Lena paused before hitting the search key, finger hovering above the button as she thought over what she was about to do. "This is almost too easy!" She stabbed her finger down and let out a victorious whoop as the air in front of her filled up with luminous text.

* * *

"So you're just letting her read whatever she wants?" Lilith asked, watching incredulously as Lena's search results appeared before her eyes. "Isn't that counterproductive?"

"_You forget that the connection goes both ways. She can read whatever she wants, but I can change the way she perceives it. And if she insists on pushing her way through... I can always push back."

* * *

_

Lena's jubilation was short-lived. The first text was inconclusive, initially-promising leads dwindling into nonsensical tangents that in turns baffled or infuriated their reader. "Whoever wrote this was either drug-addled or senile," she growled, tapping in a new query. She breathed a sigh of relief when this article made sense, at least on first readthrough. Lena then felt her blood begin to heat as the final paragraph disappeared entirely and proved irretrievable. The next article proved nearly impossible to read as random letters or at times complete words had been removed from the passage. Lena pushed the keyboard away and tried to rub a growing headache away from her temples. "Either I'm having superbly bad luck and this topic is one of the few that the Sidra _don't_ have millennia of records about, or someone is messing around with me. Either way, I don't appreciate it." She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then looked down at the keyboard again. "Hopefully you're having more fun than I am."

**Fun? This is incredible. I don't know why you never let me look at these archives before.**

Lena rolled her eyes at this and chose not to reply, instead forming another search string that carefully sidestepped the topics of before. "Maybe if I'm less direct about it..."

The impediment to her search was physical this time, a searing pain that lanced through her skull and made Lena's eyes water. "O-ho, so someone _is_ messing around! Hello!" She dabbed at her eyes, then quickly revised her query. "If only my teachers could see me now, they would be so proud!"

The pain descended without pause, without warning, completely severing Lena's connection to the Archives as she lost consciousness. She came to her senses some time later, feeling the chill of metal deck plating under her face and the mineral tang of blood choking her mouth and sinuses. It took a minute or two for Lena to regain enough equilibrium to sit up straight, another minute for the room to stop spinning. "So much for that," she muttered, taking a pocket square from her waistcoat and dabbing at her face. "Are you all right?"

**I'm fine,** the ship replied. **In fact, I was getting ready to ask you the same thing. I pulled away right before you passed out, so I've suffered no damage. It's a shame, though – we could have learned so much!**

Lena sighed. "I agree, my dear. Now it's back to the proverbial drawing board."

* * *

When the lights came back up, Lilith was relieved to see a normal office with a desk set and chairs. The Master Archivist sat in the largest of the chairs, fastening the blue cuffs around her wrists with a self-satisfied smile on her face. "That particular problem is solved," Gloriamundi said, noting Lilith's vaguely nauseous expression. "Don't worry, the physical damage isn't permanent. Her credentials are gone, though, and she has no further access to our files. She will have a much harder time finding what she was seeking."

* * *

No one at the Library noticed the addition of another patron in its halls, strangely-dressed as she was. They also paid no mind to her single-minded focus, nor the copious amounts of notes that she scribbled in a spiral-bound notebook that was already filled with incomprehensible diagrams and arcane etchings that would have baffled even the most scholastic of contemporary minds. Indeed, the only other mortal mind that could fathom the purpose behind the young woman's research would not arrive at the Library for another few years, and by then it would be too late.

Not even this man from the future would know why the young woman paused on her way out of the Library, her hand resting lightly on the exit door. He would not guess that she had seen a strange mottling pattern in the wood or that she smiled the way she did because she had identified its cause. The word she whispered into the air was beyond the hearing of most life forms, but more than enough to agitate an unseen presence that had lain dormant in the Library since the day of its construction. This would not be important to the visitor from the future, though. He would be far too concerned with counting shadows.


	9. Conditional Accuracy

**9 – Conditional Accuracy**

Cameron did not usually trouble himself with researching alternate timelines. He'd found that the one he had to focus on daily was enough of a handful, and tracking down the various what-if's and could-have-been's caused his head to throb dangerously. He remembered what had happened the last time he'd had such a headache, one that ultimately resulted with his physical body splattered across his office, and the memories were enough to make him wish to avoid a recurrence of the phenomenon.

Yet headaches were all that he seemed to get these days, ever since he'd regained custodianship of the Time Lord Office. Nothing of the cranial-exploding variety, thankfully, but the kind of creeping pain that set one's teeth on edge with each new development had been what he'd felt since the moment he'd taken the reins back from his daughter. Cameron felt a deepening sense of self-loathing as he perused the records of Lilith's tenure as Curator that only worsened when he realized that he'd been the indirect cause of her decline. _It's bad enough that I caught her in bed with the man,_ he mused sourly. _Even worse, her reports are a mess._

He would not have even noticed the alternate timeline had it not been for hearsay bounced from table to table at the cafeteria during lunchtime. Cameron was used to not hearing from his daughter and grandson for significant intervals and news of eccentric behavior from either of them was hardly noteworthy, but the recurring theme throughout each story led him to believe that further investigation was due: _"He's dead. Can you believe it – the Doctor's dead!"_

_

* * *

_

"What're you going on about?" Junior finished up his notations on a form, punched two holes in the top, and slid it onto the top of a thick sheaf of similar papers on one side of a file folder. He secured the pile of forms inside the folder, snapped it shut, and slapped the folder down into the inbox on Cameron's desk, looking questioningly at his grandfather when the latter flinched. "Of course he's dead. He died when I was little. Now this office is yet again a laughingstock and the only thing keeping it around is that certain of our laws prohibit genocide – that, and Mother still refuses to believe that Lena is gone and the body possessed by our last surviving client. She doesn't want to risk killing off one of her own children."

Cameron studied Junior for a few silent moments. Years of anger, depression and solitude had eroded the pleasant face of adolescence into something harsher, and his entire frame was tense as if he were ready for a fight. _But to fight what?_ Cameron wondered, then continued aloud, "And you?"

"What about me?"

"What do you think about it?"

Junior sighed. "Lena died when she let that freak into her body. There's nothing of her left. I'd say kill her and get it over with – I'm sick and tired of all of this." He turned and walked to the office door, pausing only to retrieve something leaning by the door that Cameron hadn't noticed.

The older man eyed the object with curiosity – a stout wooden pole etched with mysterious glyphs, a wicked metal barb affixed to its top – and raised an eyebrow. "What in the name of the Matriarch is that thing, and what is it doing in my office?"

"It's a harpoon, Granddad. You can't exactly expect me to go hunting unarmed." Then Junior was gone, leaving Cameron staring in his wake.

* * *

"You can try and talk to her, but good luck. She hasn't said a word for the past two hundred years." Avery stood between Cameron and the meditation alcove, barring his access with her slight form that he knew belied a fearsome physical strength. "I think you're the last person she wants to see right now anyway."

"You don't know that -"

"You're right, I don't, but I can certainly guess. You haven't said a single nice thing to her since you came back, so what makes me think that you'd start now?" Knowing she'd made her point, Avery pressed a combination of keys and erased one wall of the alcove, allowing Cameron to see inside. His heart sank when he saw a pale, insubstantial figure sitting on the floor gazing unseeingly at the far wall, a beatific smile on her face as her mind wandered far afield. "This is one of her better days, Cam. Just leave her be."

Cameron brushed his daughter's thoughts lightly, curious as to what she saw that made her smile like she did. He was startled to see that, in her mind's eye, she sat on a barren, dusty hill overlooking a field of desiccated, spindly plants. It had been a lush pastoral landscape at one time in the past, but that was long ago. What was so captivating -

A light breeze blew the clouds away from the moon overhead, allowing its forgiving rays to fall over the waste below. Under those gentle beams the land began to transform, withered foliage turning green once more and dried-up seed pods bursting into flowers in colors that strained his imagination to grasp. Cameron withdrew from Lilith's mind and caught Avery's eye. "You saw them too – the nimbus lilies?" Avery asked, and Cameron nodded. He'd read Lilith's descriptions of that field in her reports and now shuddered to think of what forces drove her to hide there. "I think it's best if you go now. I'll let you know if anything changes."

* * *

The timeline was there waiting for Cameron when he returned to his office. It took some searching to find it, but it was there, indexed neatly in the back of a dusty, rarely-read volume on the bottom corner of his bookshelf. He pulled it from its hiding place, settled in his chair, and placed his hand over the page so that its contents would be displayed on the blank wall behind the desk.

_A series of percussive explosions – fire, soon extinguished by a massive gush of water as an entire river poured in – shimmering light, the Empress escaping to safety however false, no such escape for the hero of the hour – _The empty clatter of a sonic screwdriver on pavement snapped Cameron out of his reverie and he sat up straight in his chair, disengaging from the record book as a fresh realization came over him. "What if that's the way it's supposed to be?" he muttered, laying the book out on his desk and opening a desk drawer to reach for the correct form. "Chaos follows that man wherever he goes. Imagine what it would be like, how peaceful if he weren't there to get into things!"

The slightest of misgivings sniped at him as he began to write, reminding him of Junior's predatory oddness stalking out with a harpoon in hand, of Lilith and her empty dreams of flower-filled fields – to which Cameron gritted his teeth and forced the thoughts from his mind. "All it will take is one report and then it will all be over."

* * *

**Interdimensional Oversight Commission Official Report**

**Serial Number:** 10-31B

**Originator: **Cameron – Caretaker, Time Lord Office

**Subject:** Racnoss Incident (Continuation)

**Summary of Events:** The Empress of the Racnoss failed in her attempts to turn the Earth into a feeding world for her offspring due to the Doctor's intervention. After issuing his usual offers of peaceful resolution – which were, as usual, turned down – and, lacking any other means to proceed, the Doctor proceeded to flood the lair of the Racnoss by bursting the walls with explosives and allowing the Thames to resume its natural course. The Empress was able to briefly escape to her ship before it was destroyed by UNIT forces. Unfortunately, the Doctor was unable to escape the flooding and was drowned before he could regenerate.

**Recommended Action:** None recommended. Further intervention would result in the breach of several applicable laws.

* * *

Junior crouched down behind a rock outcropping and struggled to catch his breath. The beast wasn't fast or particularly bright, but what it lacked in speed and smarts it made up for in sheer persistence, leviathan strength and an eye-watering stench that made it nearly impossible to engage in close quarters. Its saliva, dripping from a yellow-fanged maw in copious quantities, was acidic enough to wound. In short, Lena had engineered a magnificent species to guard her new home – and to make it worse, there were two.

The first of the pair had taken Junior the better part of an hour to subdue, if only in a temporary fashion, by maneuvering it into a particularly unstable part of the old quarry and diverting his energies to collapse the stone. It would take a crew of humans a day to clear the rubble, half that with heavy machinery, but he had no way of knowing how long it would last against the mutant guardian and had instead moved on towards where he guessed his prey to be hiding. Then the second beast had appeared and Junior was back to square one.

He'd returned to the Commission's dimension long enough to make a few basic calculations based on what he'd encountered, and the harpoon that Junior now hefted in his free hand had been the result deemed most effective by the Enforcer database. _Let's hope they were right,_ he thought, then fought off a gag as the first evidence of the beast's approach reached his nostrils. Booming footfalls echoed off the of the quarry walls, pounding faster and faster as the creature drew nearer. It scented its prey and let out a keening shriek of victory, gathered itself on massive haunches and vaulted into the air so as to crush the pitiful two-legged man-thing from above -

Junior steeled himself for impact and brought the harpoon up at just the right moment. The wooden pole quivered in his grip but the sharp metal of the barb remained true to its purpose, slicing through the vulnerable juncture between armor plates and lodging in the beast's heart. Its hunting wail turned to one of despair as thick blood gouted from the wound, liberally spattering Junior with a toxic slime that caused the fabric of his clothing to scorch. He used the last of his strength to heave the weighty carcass away and quickly peeled off his jacket. His shirt came off next, the ravaged cloth used to sponge the smoldering, tar-like goop away from key areas and then tossed aside just as quickly as the coat.

"Ooo la la! Disaster strikes and off comes the clothing, just like in the films!" Junior flinched at the sound of the voice, delicately feminine in jarring contrast with the catcall it offered. "I've never understood the purpose of the hero becoming shirtless, but if it seems to work..." There was a pause and a disappointed mew as the owner of the voice regarded her slain creation. "I spent months working on that one! Months! And you felled it with a bloody harpoon, you shameless man." Faint scuffling sounds and a most in-effeminate grunt were followed by the appearance of a most unlikely form on top of the corpse. "You're just like him, you know that? Rampaging around destroying all of my hard work just because you think it isn't right."

Junior could only boggle as the young woman reached into one of the long sleeves of her kimono and withdrew a pair of rubber laboratory gloves which she then donned in order to more safely probe the wound surrounding the giant spear. "But who are you to judge? That's one thing he never got through his thick skull – the fact that he, and you, have no right." Lena then carefully lowered herself down to the ground again, using the harpoon as a handgrip. She crossed to the beast's mouth and, seemingly oblivious to the stench, stuck her head in to get a look around. This only lasted for a few seconds and then she returned to the fresh air, eyes watering above an appreciative grin. "A true piece of work, that. And so are you, now that I think of it."

_She's small and doesn't seem trained to physical combat. I could kill her in three movements and then this whole mess would be over._ Junior lunged, aiming for Lena's center of balance, his pulse hissing in his ears with the thrill of a long-sought goal coming to swift completion.

"You've spent your whole life trying to be him and yet you never got quite... close enough." Lena turned on one sandaled foot and caught Junior by the neck, her grin turning feral as the vulnerable flesh of his neck came into contact with the lethal compounds coating her glove. "So sad. You try so hard, but in the end you can't save anyone – much less yourself."

Junior's vision began to waver as the toxic chemicals worked their way through his system, rapidly absorbed through the skin and circulated by the frantic pulses of paired hearts, and he weakly clawed at Lena's glove-encased hand. She rolled her eyes and gave one final squeeze -

* * *

"Matriarch, why do I even bother with these things?" Junior wrenched the knot loose and flung his necktie down on the bathroom counter with a grimace. He checked his appearance in the mirror one last time and willed himself away, choosing to appear in the hallway outside of his grandfather's office so as not to disturb his elder with a sudden unexpected entrance. A brisk knock on the door elicited an absentminded admittance, and Junior quietly stepped into the office.

Cameron sat hunched over the desk, pondering over the final words of his current report. He tapped his pen on the desk blotter for a moment, glanced up to see Junior watching him, and waved his grandson to one of the guest chairs nearby. After scribbling out a few short phrases, Cameron dropped the report into the in-progress bin and leaned back in his seat to give Junior an assessing look. "How're you feeling today?" he asked after a moment had passed, the younger man growing visibly uncomfortable as the seconds stacked. "Well rested, I hope? No need to go hunting?"

Junior raised a puzzled eyebrow. "I'm fine, thanks. Dad hasn't caused you any more problems, has he?"

"No more than the usual." Cameron glanced down at the trash can next to the desk where an official form lay torn in neat halves, then looked back to Junior. "He's lucky to be alive. I hope you don't happen to share any of his ambitions or who knows what things would come to."

This brought a laugh. "None that I know of. It's hard enough keeping Mum in line as is." Pause, then, "You look tired. I'll get the coffee started, shall I?"

"Please." Cameron studied his grandson as the latter moved about the office, the model of quiet efficiency as he prepared the coffeepot for its morning percolation. _One has to be subtle about these things,_ he mused. _Sometimes we only need make minor adjustments..._


	10. A Wrinkle in Time

**10 – A Wrinkle in Time**

"Anything interesting today?"

Junior snapped out of his musings with a start, glancing up over the top of his book with a quizzical eyebrow raised at his sister. "Elder Kemosh's thoughts on interdimensional ethics, if that's what you're asking about. Quite interesting."

"Seems a bit heavy for lunchtime reading material," Lyla said, favoring Junior with a dry smile. She sat down across the table from him and looked out the window for a long while before speaking again. "Then again, Mother used to sit here and read romance novels pilfered from the Earth-Human Office during her lunch breaks. To each their own, I guess. It always amazes me that you turned out so serious and... well, quiet." Junior sighed and returned to his reading, turning the page with a pointed crinkling of paper. "Interdimensional ethics, eh? I studied that at the beginning of my Caseworker courses."

"Not all of us were so lucky," grumbled Junior. "I don't know what I would have become if Granddad hadn't let me apprentice with him at the office."

Lyla snickered. "Like your father, maybe? Elders forbid." She took a sip of her water and muttered, "Some Time Lord you would make. You can't even tie a necktie – I'd hate to see what you'd do with sonics." Junior ignored this remark and continued reading. "So, have you gotten to where she compares Time to layers of fabric?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. That was a nice bit, quite well-phrased..." Junior thumbed back to a marked page and scanned down the lines of text with a finger until he found what he was looking for. "To wit: Time could be said to be composed of interlocked lines of causality, each laid in its ordained place. Dramatic interference with the ordained order of things causes a snag in the cloth, much like pulling out a loose thread. One must be careful to avoid the temptation, though, even to smooth out a displeasing patch in Time as smoothing out a wrinkle in one place is sure to cause undue rumpling elsewhere." Junior noticed that his sister's gaze had gone wandering, her thoughts meandering in a more appealing direction. "What? You asked. I thought it was interesting, anyway."

Lyla returned from her woolgathering with a blink. "Kinda makes you think, doesn't it? And she only addresses what happens if we go messing around with other races in other dimensions. What would happen if someone tinkered with us?"

"That's preposterous. No one has that ability." Junior stared at his sister in bafflement that she could even suggest such a thing. "At least, no one that we know of."

"Thank the Elder that we follow our own rules," Lyla muttered and speared a forkful of lettuce with vicious intent. "Or at least we like to act like it." She thought while she ate, then looked back to her brother who had resumed his reading. "Have you noticed anything odd around the office lately?"

"Nope, not a fig," Junior answered and turned to the next page.

* * *

"Are we all present?" Gloriamundi stood by her desk and waited for the technicians to reply. One stood by a secondary panel, ready to throw an override switch in case anything went wrong, and the second readied their instrumentation to record the upcoming procedure. "I'll begin the daily records sweep now."

The room went dark at the Master Archivist's command and ghostly images began to fill the air at a dizzying speed, those that bore further analysis slowed for recording and perusal by the archive staff. Ages passed – and then, suddenly, the playback shuddered to a halt. The recording archivist dutifully pressed a button on her panel, regarding the events displayed with the detachment of the professionally distanced. She'd seen stories like this before – daring escapes and desperate measures undertaken to escape complete annihilation – and such events belonging to the Time Lord Office's records were too commonplace to arouse much suspicion. The moment held up for scrutiny showed a life-form in a conical metal capsule throwing itself into the winds of Time to avoid capture or destruction... no matter, it would surely be destroyed by its passage through the Vortex...

But no such thing happened. The recorder nearly dropped her stylus when she saw the progression of the event stream and what it produced: two mangled horrors, one whose hatred could not be held in by his maimed body, and the other reduced to a maniacally cackling mass of tentacled flesh.

The image wavered as Gloriamundi briefly lost her focus, making a sound akin to a cough as she composed herself. The override technician held his hand over the switch and inquired nervously, "Are you all right, Master Archivist?"

"I am fine," murmured Gloriamundi. "But this... this is not. This deserves my personal attention – I will turn the records sweep over to the backup team."

* * *

"You have to know something about this!" Yvenda threw a thick bundle of files down on Cameron's desk. Cameron sighed and removed the rubber bands that held the files together, handed the first half to Lyla and began leafing through the remainder. "My world is once again in chaos and I have a feeling – no, make that an absolute certainty – that one of your clients is right in the thick of it!"

The elder Sidra refused to dignify Yvenda's rants with a reply, but the deepening furrow in his brow showed that he did not like what he read. "So a Z-listed hostile race has returned and you immediately blame the Time Lords for it? I swear, Yvenda, you reach the most baffling – and sometimes offensive – conclusions."

Yvenda paled and hastily backtracked. "Well, the Doctor's been known to get into the worst scrapes with these types - "

"Name one of the major hostile races that he hasn't been in hot water with," Lyla muttered, drawing a glare from the Earth-Human field agent and a small smile from her grandfather.

"The universe was spared further catastrophe when the Time War was sealed away," Yvenda continued, withdrawing her glare when she realized that Lyla was unfazed. "Now someone has managed not only to breach it, but to bring the creator of a dangerous and volatile race back from certain death. If your Doctor doesn't have something to do with it, then it's the other one."

Lyla scowled at this mention of events relating to her sister but said nothing. She then flipped a page in her current folder and her anger melted away under the white flame of shock and fear. _Is that who I think it is...?_ She set the folder down for a moment and crossed to the bookshelf. A brief cross-reference in one of the volumes caused her stomach to sink, and she snatched up the folder before her grandfather could come to the same conclusion. _Davros!_

Cameron, sensing the dark emotion from his granddaughter, shot a querying glance up at Lyla, who quickly composed herself. "May I take this one? Considering your past conflicts with the race in question and the result of it, it might be better if a fresh set of eyes looked it over."

Cameron sighed, ran his hands over his head to quell a growing headache, and nodded up at Lyla. "I suppose you're right. Let me know if you need any assistance."

"Of course." Lyla gathered up the rest of the folders and turned back to Yvenda. "This will be taken care of. Now please, go about your business and leave us to ours." The Earth-Human Field Agent took the hint and left. "Stay here and relax, Grandfather. I'll get to work," Lyla said, then vanished as well.

* * *

A faint chime some time ago had betrayed the presence of another in the apartment Lilith shared with the remainder of her family and, noting it as her daughter, Lilith had returned to her latest project and thought little of Lyla's return. After lightly brushing her daughter's thoughts and sensing her deep at work, Lilith put her own tasks aside and went to make a pot of calming mint tea that she would offer along with her assistance at whatever Lyla had brought home from the office.

Whatever it was, it was not clandestine enough for Lyla to lock the door behind her. Lilith ghosted into the room with two mugs of tea in hand and stopped where she stood, puzzled at what she saw. Notes and readouts hung in the air around Lyla's desk, the desktop itself scattered with a blizzard of further papers and files, and in the center of the room hovered a luminous display of twenty-seven orbs arrayed in a delicate web. "What in the Elder's name is going on?" Lilith muttered, eyes wandering from the display to each of the readouts. "Why did you bring something like this home? Couldn't you leave it at the office for Dad to handle?"

"I didn't think that would be such a wise idea, considering what happened the last time he dealt with a Dalek war campaign." Lyla got up and stretched, moved to her mother and took one of the mugs. "Davros is back, Mum – brought back by the last surviving member of the Cult of Skaro, who managed to somehow breach the time-lock at the cost of its sanity."

Lilith spat a mouthful of mint tea back into her mug and looked at her daughter askance. "This must be new. What does the Master Archivist have to say about this?"

Lyla shrugged. "I don't know. They wouldn't let me talk to her when I took all of this to the Archives – they said she's sick." A sip of tea, then, "You're right, this is new. The root event, Dalek Caan surviving its fall through the Vortex, was date-stamped in the Archives as happening last week."

"So something else has to have been changed in order for this to happen," Lilith mused, "and it would have to be something closely related. Have you noticed anything strange around the office?"

Before Lyla could answer, a new figure appeared in the doorway. "Granddad said you'd brought a project home, but this is huge!" Junior pushed his glasses up his nose so that he could better read the information scattered in the air around the room. "So Davros is back? I wonder what happened to cause that."

"We were just trying to figure that out." Mother and daughter traded looks, each with the feeling that the answer they were looking for was hidden in plain sight.

"Well, I'll be in my room if you need an extra brain. Try not to think too hard."

Lyla waited until her brother was out of earshot, then muttered, "When did he become such an insufferable dweeb?"

Lilith rolled her eyes. "You've got almost thirty planets out of their proper alignment and a mad scientist on the loose with his homemade race of master nasties, and _he's_ what you're focusing on? Get some perspective."

One of the readouts pinged in warning; Lyla brought it to the fore and frowned. "When the workload becomes too heavy to handle yourself, outsource. According to our dear Doctor, these planets are aligned into an engine... but for what? What does Davros have in mind?"

Lilith said nothing, but instead reached for another readout. "Why don't we let him tell us?"

"_Electrical energy, Miss Tyler. Every atom in existence is bound by an electrical field. The reality bomb cancels it out. Structure falls apart. That test was focused on the prisoners alone... Full transmission will dissolve every form of matter."_ Lyla's mind reeled at the implications held in that metallic rasp. Lilith remained impassive as she waited for the requisite interjections from the captives and for Davros to continue his explanation. _"Across the entire universe, never stopping, never faltering, never fading! People, planets and stars will become dust, and the dust will become atoms, and the atoms will become... nothing. And the wavelength will continue, breaking through the rift at the heart of the Medusa Cascade into every dimension - "_

"Merciful Matriarch, he could actually kill us," Lyla whispered, her face pale. "And we can't do a thing to stop it, can we?"

"No, we can't." Lilith grinned humorlessly. "Rules are a bitch, aren't they?"


End file.
